Sorry, Charlie
by CHOOSELIFE
Summary: Third story in the Charlie series. This story picks up two and a half years after Drake's last overdose. Ricardo has forced him to clean up his act, but still Drake can't seem to get away from his past. Everyday is a fight to stay clean and now that he doesn't have his favorite red pills, his depression and anxiety are just as hard to kick as his drug addiction.
1. Living Sober

**[December] - 2 1/2 years after Charlie Horse's ending (Ricardo forced Drake to leave Tad's and told him that he no longer had a choice in the matter: Drake will get clean)**

"Drake, get up," Ricardo said from the doorway as he buttoned up his dark blue shirt. He folded down the collar, then looked up and saw that the boy wasn't making any moves. "Come on. Time for work."

"Mmm," Drake groaned.

"I know you're not fucking sleeping, so stop faking."

"I don't wanna go today."

"That's really unfortunate because you're going to anyway."

"I really don't feel good."

Ricardo grabbed his arm and dragged him onto his feet.

"Come on, Ricky," Drake protested.

"I let you use a sick day yesterday."

"I'm still sick."

Ricardo sighed and examined his features. He seemed normal on the outside, but he could never be too sure. "Did you relapse again?"

"No," the boy said to his shoes. He seemed taken aback by the question.

"Drake?" he said skeptically.

"I didn't."

"Look at me."

Drake met his eyes. It was obvious that part of him was irritated while the other half of him knew that he had no right to be. "I'm clean today. I promise."

Ricardo believed him. "Good. Come on. Get dressed. I'll make you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," the boy said.

"Drake-"

"I'll grab a granola bar on the way out," he said to please his friend.

Ricardo accepted this and nodded. He gave him a pat on the shoulder, expressing that he understood that Drake was going through a hard time while also giving him a bit of encouragement, then he left the room. Drake sighed, then went over to his closet and pulled out a nice tee shirt. He moved to the dresser, grabbed his jeans with large holes in the knees and a pair of boxers, then he made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the shower faucet so that the water could start getting warm and he brushed his teeth in the meantime. When that was done, he stripped off his clothes, then stepped inside of the tub. Although he'd been awake for quite some time now, he didn't feel very awake, so he hoped the water spraying down on him would snap him back to reality.

He didn't lie to Ricardo. He _was_ sober, but damn if he didn't not want to be. Today was just one of those days where it was harder than the others, and there was no particular reason for his craving other than his own constant sadness. Despite what it had eventually led to, he would be lying if he said he didn't miss Charlie a lot. To be honest, he wasn't sure that most of that was Charlie's fault at all. In fact, when he thought back on it, he couldn't really recall why he had gotten clean in the first place.

Of course, Ricardo had practically kidnapped him and forced him to. He remembered having to follow the man _everywhere_ : grocery store, work, the kitchen even. Ricardo hadn't been kidding when he'd said that he would be glued to Drake's side. He'd had a bedtime. He'd had a chore list. Until he'd earned his friend's trust back, there had been bars on the window of the spare bedroom and a lock on the outside of his door. It sounded extreme, but Drake had tried to escape and get high again on many occasions, and had that been possible, he'd probably be dead by now after the route he had been going down before his friend had showed up.

Although Ricardo had spearheaded the effort into cleaning Drake up, Drake had actually agreed with him in time, and he eventually started putting effort into his sobriety. But why? What was his reason, and why couldn't he remember it? If he could remember it, then maybe it would be easier to say no when he had the opportunity to use. He had no idea why he had gotten clean, and that was a dangerous place to be.

He has relapsed before — several times, actually — but it was...different. Having not used in so long, it was like...why did he ever like them so much? Every time he'd come back to them, he never enjoyed them as much as he used to. He'd ruined his life for these pills. He'd publicly been stripped of his pride and dignity just to feed his habit, and now he couldn't remember why he'd ever needed them so badly.

Basically, there was a lot that he couldn't remember, and despite that being annoying as hell, maybe it wasn't a bad thing.

* * *

"Keep the change," the man said as he got out of the stool and pulled on his jacket.

Drake thanked him, then went over to the cash register. After cashing out the man's check, he put the leftover three dollars into his pocket. When he looked up again, he saw another customer waving him over.

"Can I get another?" the man mouthed from the other end of the bar as he pointed at his empty glass.

Drake grabbed a clean glass, then picked up the nozzle for the Samual Adams and poured it until it was filled to the brim. He gave the man his drink, and when he went back over to the register to add it onto the man's tab, Ricardo walked up to him.

"I think the rush is starting to slow down a little," he said.

An African American woman who was roughly four years older than Drake (give or take) approached the two as she wiped down the counter. Her name was Shaniqua. Instead, Drake's gaze moved to the front door as a brunette girl wearing a short skirt and a tight tank top stepped inside. She offered her ID up to the man standing there.

"Slow enough for me to take my break?" the boy asked.

Ricardo followed Drake's eyes to the girl who was putting her ID back inside of her pocket. "I thought you two split."

"Not forever. She just needed some time apart."

"No, she wanted to be able to sleep with other guys without it being considered cheating."

Shaniqua piped up teasingly, but in a sisterly way rather than a rude way. "Like she hasn't cheated before."

"Ain't that the truth," Ricardo agreed.

"Fuck you guys. So can I go or...?"

Ricardo was irritated and he clearly despised the girl in question, but he wasn't a jerk about it. "Yeah, go ahead."

* * *

Drake closed his eyes, his uneven breathing audible. He moaned when the brunette girl from inside the bar moved her tongue rhythmically over the sensitive skin on his erect penis. They were in her car, which was parked behind the bar where all the workers parked. She always parked here because she knew no one could see them here.

Her name was Clementine, which she hated, so he called her Clem although everyone else knew her as Dahlia, her middle name. Clementine Dahlia Martin. What a mouthful. Her parents must've been super into flowers. And yes, Drake saw the irony in the fact that the first girlfriend he had since his father's death shared a name with the bastard.

Drake's breath hitched, and then he let out another moan. He warned the girl that he was about to ejaculate. After what he had gone through in his past, he learned that a heads up was much appreciated. When he finished and she sat up, he lifted his ass off of the seat and buttoned his jeans, then zipped them. He sat back down with an out-of-breath huff, then looked at the girl as he secured his belt. He could immediately tell that something was the matter.

"What's wrong?"

"You didn't tell Ricardo we were back together," she said in her English accent. She was from Europe, but she had been living in the states when her parents had relocated here for work five years ago. "I could tell by the way he was looking at me."

"Well, I mean..."

She waited for his response, but he didn't have a good excuse.

"I just haven't gotten around to it yet," he shrugged innocently.

"Haven't _gotten around_ to it yet?"

Maybe his choice of words was questionable.

"What, are you ashamed of me?"

"No! God, no!" Drake turned in his seat and grabbed her hand. "Of course not," he said.

"Then what is it?"

"I just..." He never really updated people on his love life. If they asked, he didn't mind talking about it, but it wasn't something he usually brought up out of the blue. He could see why it upset Clem, but he still thought that she was overreacting. However, when it came to Clementine and her mood swings, he knew it was just best to apologize and remember never to repeat the same behavior later. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like you're not important to me. You know I love you more than anything." Believe it or not, his words were actually true. A lot has changed since his last overdose on Triple C's three years ago.

The girl allowed him to pull her into a hug and he rested his chin on top of her head.

"You mean everything to me. Okay?"

His voice expressed sadness despite the fact that he was trying to hide it. It broke his heart to know that he had unintentionally hurt her feelings. Because of the depression and anxiety he was now dealing with on a constant basis caused by his sobriety, he would obsess over this moment for hours, possibly even days. It was such a small thing that Clem seemed to no longer care about now that he'd apologized and said such nice words, but Drake's ever intrusive mental illnesses kept him convinced that he was the shittiest person alive.

He kissed the top of her head and spoke into her hair. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said, and she kissed the crook of his neck.

* * *

Drake opened his eyes when he felt movement. He took in a deep breath as he stretched, then he let out a moan. He looked over and saw a nude Clementine sitting on the edge of the bed. She pulled one of his tees over her head.

"Where you going?" His voice was strained because of his tiredness.

"Gonna shower." She pulled the pair of panties that he'd taken off of her last night up her legs, then she crawled across the mattress on her hands and knees and gave him a kiss.

Drake moaned again. His eyes were closed, and he could already feel himself getting aroused. He slipped his hand under her shirt and touched her waist, and that's when she separated her lips from his and started to get up.

He grabbed her hand. "Stay," he said softly.

Instead, she pulled him into a sitting position. "Come shower with me."

* * *

Drake stood in front of the stove scrambling eggs when Dahlia entered the kitchen. She was now fully clothed in jeans and a burnt orange tank top. Her hair was still damp. She walked up behind Drake, then smacked him on the ass. He grinned, then felt comfort when she wrapped her arms around his torso and leaned her body against his back.

"I thought you were getting dressed," she said.

"I did."

"You're wearing pj's."

"Because I just wanna stay home with you and relax while I'm off work."

"But I thought we could go shopping." She _always_ wanted to go shopping on Drake's dime. It wasn't a coincidence that she came over today — his payday.

"Doesn't it sound more fun to lay in bed all day with pizza and Netflix? We've only got one more season of _Shameless_ left." Drake hated going out in crowds and dealing with people on the road and in stores, but he loved her, so when she gave him her classic puppy dog face, he conceded. "Fine."

"Yay!" She kissed his cheek, so he turned his head so that their lips could meet.

Ricardo walked in then. He had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. He didn't like Clementine at all, but she made Drake happy, and after a rough young adulthood, he deserved to be happy. "Good morning."

The two pulled apart, and Clem gave him a bright smile. "Morning."

Ricardo made his way over to the coffee pot, grabbed a mug from the cabinet above, then prepared himself a cup of joe. He looked at the clock and saw that it was twelve in the afternoon. "Drake, you're up earlier than normal."

Because of the late hours brought on by working as a bartender, it was usually two o'clock before he woke up, and even after he woke up, more often than not, he would lay there forever until he thought himself into a depression "episode." One good thing about Dahlia being around was that she kept Drake busy and distracted, Ricardo supposed.

The man sat down on the middle stool in front of the island, then sipped on his coffee. He noticed that the two were already dressed. "What are your plans for today?"

"Drake is gonna take me shopping," Clementine said with a big grin. "And then-" She looked at her boyfriend, then wrapped her arms around his waist as he poured the eggs onto two plates. "-I thought we could go see that new movie with Bradley Cooper."

"The chick flick?" Ricardo said as he chuckled into his coffee. His poor friend was so far gone that it was almost adorable.

Clementine grabbed her plate, then took a seat next to Ricardo. "So can we?" That fucking puppy dog face.

"Sure." Drake leaned against the counter and poked at his breakfast.

"Isn't he just the dog's bollocks?"

"Oh, absolutely," Ricardo said in a sarcastic tone.

"Fuck off," Drake said.

"I'll go lay out some clothes." Before the young man could protest, Dahlia had kissed his cheek and disappeared upstairs, leaving her plateful of eggs untouched.

"She's picking out your clothes now?"

"Not all the time."

He could tell that Drake was embarrassed that she was doing this for him, but his friend didn't have the courage to tell her not to. Knowing that Dahlia wouldn't come back for the food, Ricardo dragged the plate in front of himself and took a bite. All the while, he kept his eyes on Drake, who clearly also hadn't planned on eating what he had cooked. Every now and then, Drake would get lost in his own mind. He'd completely forget about everything around him, the fake smile would fall from his tired face, and his empty eyes would pierce through the walls or the floor as if he could see things in them that no one else could see.

"You alright?"

And then suddenly, Drake blinked and he was back to being his "normal, cheerful" self. "Just tired. I don't think I was ready to get out of bed yet." Understatement of the year.

Ricardo watched him force down a forkful of eggs. "I could always make that appointment with a counselor for you." For three years, he had pushed for this. It was the one thing he hadn't been able to force Drake to do.

"I'm fine."

"You've just been through a lot. You're still bottling up the things that happened three years-"

"Great. This whole spiel again." He rolled his eyes, and anger spewed from his lips.

"I..." Ricardo paused, his brows furrowed, stunned by the sudden change in his friend's mood. "I just think it would help. You know? Getting some things-"

"I said I'm fine," Drake spat harshly.

As an attempt to lighten the mood, Ricardo jokingly said, "What if I use that puppy dog face that Dahlia always uses on you?" He went on to mimic her famous expression. However, this didn't better the tone of their conversation in the slightest.

"Fuck off." Drake tossed his plate (still full) of eggs into the sink, and although it didn't break, it made a loud clanging noise.

"Drake," Ricardo started as his friend stomped up the stairs, but he ignored him. "Jesus. What the fuck?" He whispered to himself.

* * *

Drake got out of the passenger's seat and closed the door. He pulled a green pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, opened the box, picked one, and then lit up. He wasn't sure why his heart was racing so much. All he wanted was to be back home in his bed, but maybe going out was a good thing. He couldn't handle facing Ricardo right now after his blow up. He felt guilty for being such a prick. He knew his friend only wanted what was best for him. He just didn't like talking about it. He'd spent the entire drive in silence, replaying the conversation in his head over and over again until his brain came up with the conclusion that Ricky now hated him. He knew that it wasn't true, but it was like there was this voice in the back of his mind constantly nagging at him like a mosquito that wouldn't go away no matter how many times you swat at it. _Ricardo hates you. He only puts up with you because you're pathetic and he pities you. He knows you couldn't make it on your own. And he's right. You won't amount to anything. You are nothing, you damaged, worthless, no-good piece of-_

"Shit. What the fuck is this then?" Clementine grabbed the cigarette from between his lips and dropped it, then smashed it with the toe of the red flats that Drake had bought for her right before they'd broken up. "Are you fuckin' jokin'?"

"I may have started back when we were broken up," he admitted shamefully.

"Well, that's just bloody brilliant, innit?"

He didn't have any reasonable excuses. He just can't handle the stress he feels when she's not around.

"Christ, did you even think about dragging a comb across your head before we left?"

"I did." Drake self-consciously brushed his fingers through his hair.

"Fuck it. Come on, ya cock-up."

Now that she'd manipulated him into feeling guilty and completely shitty about himself, he would do anything (or buy anything) to get back in her good graces. One would assume that he would catch on to this little game she played every single time she wanted something, but he was too in love to see what she was doing. He needed her, and she knew it, so she used that to her advantage. She knew that, no matter what she did, Drake would always take her back, and as an added bonus for her, he usually found ways to blame himself and would do all of the apologizing when it was time to make up. Everyone saw it. Everyone except Drake, but he needed this to be real; he needed her for reasons that he couldn't understand. Maybe she was just a replacement for all the shit that had been washed out of his life. Maybe he couldn't handle going through each day without the usual drama, abuse, and neglect that he'd lived with for so long. Maybe he needed her there to remind him how much of a "cock-up" he truly was.

* * *

Drake was shoved backwards, but the soft mattress caught his fall. He scooted back a bit, his eyes filled with lust as Clementine crawled towards him, her cleavage showing in her orange tank top. She straddled him, then pulled off her shirt and pressed her lips hard against Drake's. He unbuttoned his jeans, pulled down the zipper, then placed his hand on his girlfriend's cheek to deepen the kiss, his tongue finding hers and wrestling for dominance despite the fact that they both knew that she was the one who held all the power in their relationship.

When Dahlia reached around to unhook her bra, the boy pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side. She immediately grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head in between her breasts. He could hear the rapid beating of her heart, and she could feel his bulge growing between her thighs. She grabbed his hands and rubbed them up and down her waist, and then to her breasts. His lips made their way across her collarbone, up her neck, and back to her lips.

Clem slipped her hand under the waistband of his boxers, and moments later, Drake let go of a moan. He rested his sweaty forehead on her shoulder, his heavy breaths of air hitting her chest and letting her know what technique was working best for him. As she massaged him, his breath hitched and he let go of another moan.

"I'm so wet," she said.

Again, his breathing got caught in his throat. "Oh, God..."

"It's dripping between my thighs. I wanna feel you inside of me. I want you to shove your cock in my fanny so hard and so fast that I'm screaming your name. Oh, Drake!" she imitated in a high-pitched squeal. She felt his hips bucking involuntarily. "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes!"

"Stop." He grabbed her wrist. "I'm gonna cum."

She pulled her hand out of his boxers, then removed her shorts and panties. As she did this, he finished undressing also, then he pulled her closer and stuck a finger inside her, then another to really get her going. He spanked her a few times per her request, and then they were both at a point where neither could contain themselves anymore. When Drake finally penetrated her, they both moaned. She was on top, moving up and down on him, her breasts bouncing right in front of his face. His hands were on her ass, urging her to move faster...faster...faster... Until...

"Oh, fuck," he moaned.

"Oh, God, Drake," was her satisfied reply. She dropped on top of him.

Both were dripping with sweat and panting for air.

"Goddamn," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I fucking love you so much."

* * *

Drake winced when the door squeaked. He held his breath, then pushed it shut. He slowly let go of the knob, allowing it to turn back into place, but all of that was useless. The second he turned around, he saw Ricardo sitting on the staircase right in front of him. He visibly jumped at his unexpected appearance.

"Good morning," the man greeted, but his voice sounded anything but welcoming.

"You're up." Drake didn't know why he'd stated it out loud.

"Where were you last night?"

"Just...out."

"Out where?"

"I stayed over at Clem's."

"Doing what?" the man interrogated further.

Drake rolled his eyes. "Fucking. Jesus. You wanna know what color underwear I'm wearing, too?"

Ricardo stood, then made his way down the couple of steps so that he could be close enough to examine his friend's eyes. "Did you get high?"

"No!" He was unable to hide his irritation.

"Are you lying to me?"

"No! And before you ask again, because I know you will, the answer is still no."

Ricardo always asked three times because sometimes it wasn't easy to come clean right away.

"I just want you to be honest with me."

"I am," Drake said. Despite his frustration, he understood where the man was coming from. "Ricky, you know I'm always honest with you about that. I have no reason to lie. I know you'll stay as cool as you can. I know my housing situation isn't in danger. If I've used, you know I always admit it to you."

"You walked in the house all sneaky like you had done something wrong."

"Because I knew you'd act like this if I stayed out all night."

"I just want to trust so bad that you'll make the right choices."

"I know, but I wish you would just..."

"Just what?"

Drake hesitated. He couldn't even look at him when he said, "Back off."

Ricardo wasn't mad. He and Drake had their fair share of arguments, but they usually never raised their voices and actually fought. Drake was so used to taking verbal abuse and criticism from his father that he tended to cower away and become submissive when someone yelled at him. Ricardo had learned that pretty quickly after the boy had moved in, so when they had issues or complaints, they could usually talk it out in a calm manner. Although his father was long gone, Drake had it drilled into his head that disagreeing or saying what he felt would lead to some sort of torturous punishment, so Ricardo always had to push for him to keep his end of the conversation going.

Like expected, Drake immediately retracted. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be."

"I know I have no right to say that after all the shit I've done-"

"Of course you do. I know I'm overprotective sometimes. You're just like my little brother and my best friend, and I care so much for you."

Sometimes it felt like he was the only one who did.

"So how about this?" Ricardo said. "I'll try to be a little less, you know...overbearing. And you...just keep being honest."

"I can do that," Drake said.

"So just for tradition's sake, I didn't really get my chance to ask the third time, but...did you get high?"

Drake met his eyes, but this time, he wasn't agitated anymore. "No," he said. "I didn't get high."

"Good. I'm proud of you." Ricardo gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Come on. Let's eat breakfast."

Drake followed him into the kitchen, then leaned against the counter while Ricardo searched through the refrigerator. "Um, and while we're being all serious and shit..."

Ricardo moved past him with a can of biscuits in his hand.

Drake kept his head pointed at his feet. "I'm sorry about snapping on you yesterday. I was just..." He shrugged. "-in a shit mood, I guess."

"I get it. It's hard to talk about." Ricardo tapped the can against the counter, but it did nothing, so he banged it against the hard surface, and the can popped open. "You know I'm always ready to listen. I just thought it might be easier to talk to a stranger, and it's probably a lot more beneficial to work through things with the help of a professional."

"I just hate talking about it," Drake said. "I can't."

"I know. But I'm still gonna bring it up." He grabbed a circular pan out from one of the cabinets. "And maybe in two years, you'll get tired of me nagging you and finally go."

Drake cracked a smile. He was truly grateful for Ricky. Without him, he would be dead right now. Or a fucked up, drugged out vegetable left in Coach Tad's care. He shivered at the memory of what his hands felt like all over his-

"You alright?" Ricardo had seen him twitch. He glanced at him for a short moment with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah. I'll be right back." Drake made his way past the pantry and into the bathroom. He quickly lifted the toilet seat, and the second he parted his lips, vomit spewed out like a volcano.

When Drake returned to the kitchen, he found that Julio had joined his brother.

"Why don't you lay off on the coffee?" Ricardo said, fearing that it would send his little bro into a panic frenzy.

Ricardo was easily the strongest person that Drake had ever met. He had his own life with his own shit going on, yet he somehow always had the ability to stay mostly happy and content despite the negativity the younger boys threw around and their ever worsening mental illnesses.

Julio protested. "I'm so tired." And it showed on his face. Despite Ricardo's fair warning, he poured himself a cup of coffee anyway.

"Aren't you gonna be late for class?" Drake asked as he took a seat on the stool and rested his own tired head on the palm of his hand.

"Eh, whatever."

Ricardo glanced at the clock on the oven and saw that the boy was right. He grabbed his brother's cup and poured the coffee into a travel mug. "Go on."

Julio groaned, but he moved towards the front door anyway.

"Book bag," Ricardo reminded.

Julio tiredly jogged up the stairs, then soon returned with his backpack.

"Got your phone?"

The young man patted his pockets. "Fucking hell." And then he was making his way back upstairs again.

Ricardo turned towards Drake with a grin. This was their normal routine every time Julio had to go to his college, so it made no sense that he was still forgetting the same things every day.

Loud, quick footsteps made their way down the stairs until Julio was standing by the front door again. "Okay. I'm leaving for real this time."

"Have fun," Ricardo called as he stepped outside. Once his brother was gone, the man walked over to the counter, then picked up a chain of keys and held them up to show Drake.

"Christ." He laughed.

"Seven... Six... Five... Four... Three... Two..."

The front door open and Julio stepped in, quietly cursing up a storm. Ricardo tossed him his keys and then the boy was on his way...for real for real this time.

"Sometimes I don't know how he even gets dressed without me." He shook his head, then went back to his spot next to the oven and leaned against the counter. "So are you and Dahlia doing anything today?"

"No, she's got school, too."

"Then I guess it's just us today. You up for a revival of Best Bad Movie Monday? I've heard _Zombeavers_ is a good one."

Drake forced a smile. "Nah, I think I'll fall asleep if I watch a movie." His face went back to its normal expression and he looked down at the table top. Quietly, he said, "I wanted to go see Meelah today."

He went when he could, which wasn't often now that he was with Clementine. She didn't like him going to the cemetery, so he had to go in secret. She was jealous of a dead girl.

"Do you need support?"

"I'll be fine," he said. "Thanks, though."

"Well, hey, take my car." He grabbed his keys off of the hook by the front door, then handed them to the boy, who slid out of the stool.

"Thanks."

* * *

Drake's fingers gently grazed over the gravestone. It was the closest he could ever get to touching his former girlfriend, but it felt completely different. It was cold and hard and jagged, whereas she was none of those things. She was the exact opposite. He traced over the letters carved into the stone. It read, _Meelah Dekody: beloved daughter, friend, and soulmate._ Meelah's parents were so incredibly kind to include Drake and his relationship with their daughter despite that fact that he had practically been the one who had ended her life.

"God, I miss you," he whispered, pulling his arm away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "I found this song the other week, and it makes me think of you sometimes. I know I haven't come by in a while. Clem just doesn't like for me to come and... Well, I just..." He knew it wasn't really a good excuse. He owed Meelah everything after what he had done. "Anyway," he said sadly, "I just thought you'd wanna hear the song maybe. If you're not too pissed." He pressed play on his phone, and then a soft melody drifted through his ears.

 _ **All I want is nothing more**_  
 _ **To hear you knocking at my door**_  
 _ **'Cause if I could see your face once more**_  
 _ **I could die as a happy man I'm sure**_

"I remember the first time I met you. God, it was the best day of my life. I was at a Bob Dylan concert with Julio and Stevie and some other guys that I haven't spoken to in years, and we were sitting on the lawn drinking beer and smoking a blunt. And I remember that the sun was going down, and everything was great, the music was great, and I felt great. And then there you were, just spinning around in your long hippie dress with flowers in your hair and no shoes on your feet. God, you were so fucking beautiful, and just looking at you, I immediately knew, like... _this_... _this_ is the girl that I wanna spend the rest of my life with...which is crazy because you weren't smiling at all. In fact, it was the opposite. You had this uninviting presence, like you were in your own little world. Like you knew things the rest of us didn't and like you felt things that no one could possibly understand. I wanted so desperately to be apart of that world. When I saw you, you looked like you had come alone, but you didn't care. You were twirling around, feeling the setting sun on your skin, the grass between your toes, the music awakening your soul. Despite coming alone, you were more connected to everything than anyone else. You acted like you were the only one there, and when I first laid eyes on you, you were the only person I saw, too, and for a second, I caught a glimpse of what your world looked like."

 _ **When you said your last goodbye**_  
 _ **I died a little bit inside**_  
 _ **I lay in tears in bed all night**_  
 _ **Alone without you by my side**_

"I later came to find out that the reason you weren't smiling was because of the numbness from the Triple C's. You weren't alone at all, were you? But at that moment, I saw you, and you were broken, and I was broken, and I thought that we would be perfect for each other. I don't think I've ever been more wrong about anything in my entire life. You were the match that I needed to set myself on fire, and then I became poison burning through your veins."

 _ **But if you loved me**_  
 _ **Why'd you leave me**_  
 _ **Take my body**_  
 _ **Take my body**_

"I remember how much I stressed over talking to you. My friends were laughing because I've never felt like that before. I finished off my beer for courage, and then I took Julio's and finished that one, too. And then I stood and walked over to you. I had no idea what I was gonna say, and for some reason, the first thing that popped into my head when you opened your eyes and looked at me was to ask if I could have one of your cigarettes. Maybe I was still nervous even after the alcohol. We used to laugh about that. Remember? During our Charlie nights, we'd get fucked up and you'd tease me about my lame pick-up line, but it was never a line. I only ever wanted to talk to you."

 _ **All I want is**_  
 _ **All I need is**_  
 _ **To find somebody**_  
 _ **I'll find somebody**_  
 _ **Like you**_

"It was pretty lame, I guess. You knew what I meant, though. Already, it was like you could read my mind. You knew that, _Could I bum a smoke?_ really meant _Please, let me have your babies_ , so you didn't even answer me back. You just leaned in...and you kissed me...and I kissed you. The whole time, I had been shitting myself, but it was that easy."

 _ **'Cause you brought out the best of me**_  
 _ **A part of me I'd never seen**_  
 _ **You took my soul and wiped it clean**_  
 _ **Our love was made for movie screens**_

"I can still remember feeling my heart beating out of my chest. You felt it, too. I knew because, when we pulled apart, you kept your arms around me and rested your head on my chest and listened to it. And right then, beneath the orange and pink sky, for a moment...everything was perfect. But then you said those three little words."

 _ **But if you loved me**_  
 _ **Why'd you leave me**_  
 _ **Take my body**_  
 _ **Take my body**_

" _Wanna get high?_ I was already high. I smoked more weed than any of my friends just to work up the nerve to approach you. However, in that moment, I would've taken off my clothes and ran up on stage if you would've asked me to. I would've done anything, so I said I did, but you didn't offer weed. Instead, you held open the little bohemian purse you had hanging down to your hip and showed me a bunch of tiny red pills. _Take, like, sixteen_ , you said. I thought that was an outrageous number, but I wasn't about to look like a pussy, so we sat down, you counted them out for me, and then you gave me your beer to chase them down with. You said, _Give it an hour. You'll feel so fucking amazing._ But I didn't. I felt so sick. I kept trying to tell myself not to throw up, but I couldn't hold it in anymore. You didn't laugh. I knew my friends were sitting somewhere not too far behind us, and they were probably laughing so hard that they were crying, but not you. You gave me a cigarette to mask the bad taste, and then you pulled my head onto your shoulder and sung along to whatever Bob Dylan was singing. At that point, I wasn't even listening to him. I only heard you singing right in my ear, but I couldn't make out the words. It was just your voice running through my head, taking me someplace deep inside of my mind that I've never gone to before."

 _ **All I want is**_  
 _ **All I need is**_  
 _ **To find somebody**_  
 _ **I'll find somebody**_

"I don't remember a big chunk of that night. I don't think I blacked out because I know I was non-stop sick the entire time, but what I do remember is laying on the grass, and the entire world was spinning around us as if we were the only thing that mattered — as if we were what held it together, and if we separated, everything would collapse. I guess that was kinda true in a way, though."

 _ **But if you loved me**_  
 _ **Why'd you leave me**_  
 _ **Take my body**_  
 _ **Take my body**_

"I _never_ meant to hurt you. I know, for a while there, it felt like it was Charlie that I was really in love with and you were just tagging along like a third wheel, but I swear I loved you, too. I _still_ love you. I can't stop thinking about you. I was so shitty to you." Drake's heart filled with regret, and it made him nauseous. He felt water building up behind his eyes. "God, I...I should have supported you. I should've gotten clean, too, or...or let you go if I knew that I couldn't. This whole time, you always thought it was you who was the bad influence, but it was me. I deserve to be where you are, and not a day goes by where I don't think about joining you, but after everything I've done...I don't think I'll end up in the same place." The young man's bottom lip quivered as the tears began to fall. He shamefully hid his head in between his knees. "It's so hard to keep going without you," his voice cracked, and then a whimper left his throat. He sniffled. "I'm so fucking sorry, Meelah. I'm so sorry. It should've been me. God, why couldn't it have been me?"

 _ **All I want is**_  
 _ **All I need is**_  
 _ **To find somebody**_  
 _ **I'll find somebody**_  
 _ **Like you**_

* * *

 **Carter: im been throwing up all day. Srry I can't come in**

Ricardo sighed with disappointment. Carter was always calling out "sick." He was the most unreliable worker he had, but he knew that he had his reasons. He responded to the text in a professional manner, then checked his watch. Carter was supposed to arrive at work in twenty minutes. _Couldn't he have given a better head's up or something?_ He sent a message to Shaniqua asking if she could stay a bit later until he got there, then he headed upstairs to change. On his way to his bedroom, he passed by Drake's room, and when he did so, he heard a sniffle coming from inside. He stopped, then pushed open the door and saw his friend laying on his mattress with his back to him.

"I didn't hear you come in," the man said.

Drake said nothing, and the sound of his weeping ceased. Ricardo knew that he was going through a hard time and he felt horrible. He moved over to the mattress and gently sat down. He couldn't see it, but Drake's face contorted at the display of compassion. He sniffled again, and it was obvious that one of his nostrils was stuffed up, making it hard for him to breathe. Ricardo placed a hand on his shoulder for support, and then he just sat there in silence, resting his back against the wall.

* * *

"Hey, put this in the office, will ya?" Ricardo passed Drake his cell phone charger, then made his way over to Shaniqua to thank her for staying so long and let her know that she could leave.

Drake went behind the counter, then down the hall, passing the kitchen. The office was in the very back. He pushed open the door, then set his friend's charger down on his desk. Drake shut the door behind him so that he could be left with peace and quiet. He wasn't working tonight, but Ricardo had said that it was too dangerous for him to be home alone, and honestly, Drake agreed. There was too much of a temptation to relapse. Visiting Meelah's grave gave him a reason. Maybe he shouldn't have gone.

Despite the fact that Drake was so depressed that he wanted to cry and so anxious that he couldn't stop moving around, the boy pulled out his cell phone, went to Facebook, and pulled up Meelah's page. He was aware that he was being self-destructive. He felt like shit, but instead of trying to distract himself, he just wanted to wallow in it.

Her profile picture was still the same one she had left. He clicked on it so that it filled up his screen. It was of herself and Drake. She wore a grin so large that her sparkling eyes were squinted. Drake was pretending to bite her cheek, but at the same time, he wore a smile just as big as hers. That was the closest to happiness he could ever remember being. God, what he would give to turn back the clock and travel back to a time when he could hold her in his arms again.

Drake exited out of the picture, then scrolled down her page. The most recent post was from two months ago. It was a paragraph long note to Meelah that her cousin had tagged her in. As the young man read it, his eyes watered over. In the status, she mentioned how much she missed her, how often she thought about her, and how hard it was not being able to talk to her like she used to. There were several more posts after this one that were written by family members, friends, co-workers, even a couple people from high school that she never hung out with. Even though they were just acquaintances, Meelah had made such a huge impact in their lives in one way or another. These people went out of their way to write such sweet things about her, sharing memories about things she had done to help them or brighten their day. Meelah had been one big ball of sunshine that Drake's darkness had wrapped around and smothered like a boa constrictor squeezing the life out of a mouse. All of these people talked about how much they were hurting by not having her around, and that was Drake's fault. His addiction — his selfishness — had not only fucked up Meelah's life, but it had greatly affected all those around her who looked up to her and, like himself, felt hope that things would get better. Without her shining light, that was gone. Drake had taken it from all of them, including himself.

Although he knew that it was an awful idea, he read through every heartfelt post even though he had read them all before. Within minutes, he was back to crying his eyes out. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, scrolling down her timeline, thumbing through her photos, watching all of the videos she had posted. All he knew was that he wanted to get high. He desperately needed to dull the pain, and Charlie could do that. It'd been about nine months since he'd last used. It was the longest he had ever gone, and that was something to be proud of, but he couldn't keep holding off on the inevitable.

Drake stood, his mind seemingly made up. He grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around himself. He took a step towards the door, stopped, then turned and started walking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. What if Ricardo caught him? What if he stopped by the office while Drake was out? Drake didn't want him to know what he was doing until after he had done it. That way, he couldn't be stopped.

The thought of using again brought back that familiar sickness. Drake's face was a bright shade of red, and he was burning up. His breathing was faster than normal, and he felt that he could throw up at any second. His heart was racing, and already, his lips were numb. He could feel it. He could feel exactly what it was like to trip despite the fact that he hadn't swallowed a single pill yet. God, he needed them, and he needed them now. _Fuck Ricky. Who cares if he sees me? I'm a grown ass man. I don't have to be here. He doesn't run my life._

Suddenly, Drake remembered leaving his wallet at home at Ricardo's request. Sure, he probably looked old enough and could get a pass without having his license, but there was no way he could get the pills without his money. "Fuck!"

He pulled open one of the drawers on the desk, then started rummaging around inside. Ricky has to have some change around here somewhere. However, he found nothing of use in that drawer. He opened another, then another, his panic rising all the while. They were mostly filled with papers and folders and office supplies — none of which was what Drake was looking for. He yanked open the next drawer, and this time, he started pulling things out and furiously throwing them on the ground. He wanted to scream. He felt like digging his fingernails into his face and peeling off the skin. Still, he was crying.

"Fuck!"

He gave up, giving one of the drawers a hard kick, then he immediately felt guilty. Despite it being an inanimate object, displaying acts of violence towards anything made him think of his dad and how the Drake he was hiding inside of him was just like the evil man. The newly added emotion only stressed him out more. He rubbed his fingers through his hair, then pushed himself into a corner and sat down on the floor. Looking around the small room, he saw that his friend's workspace was destroyed. Papers were scattered about, pens and pencils were spilled all over the floor, rubber bands and erasers were in every line of vision no matter where you stood, yet there wasn't a single goddamn cent to be found.

Ricardo was going to be so pissed. Drake let go of a couple sobs as he anxiously rubbed his forehead, which was achy and sweaty and still feeling feverish. At this point, he was so desperate for a fix that he was willing to do anything. Therefore, he pulled out his phone and brought up his girlfriend's number, then pressed call. She didn't answer the first time, so he called again.

"Come on. Please", his voice cracked.

She answered on the fifth ring. He knew because he had counted.

"Drake?"

"Hey, what are you doing?" He tried to sound as casual as possible.

A man's voice came from the background. "Come on. Hang up the phone."

"Who was that?" Drake asked.

"I'm out with some friends from class. We're trying to study before the test. Did you need something?"

"Um..." He closed his eyes and his face contorted. He didn't want to sound weak, but he couldn't swallow down that lump in the back of his throat. He was embarrassed that he was crying, so although she couldn't see him, he put his hand over his eyes to hide his face. He couldn't hold back his sobs any longer.

"Hey, what's wrong?!" Clementine asked with genuine concern.

"Baby..." His cracked voice came out several octaves higher than normal.

"Yeah?"

"I really need a favor."

"What is it?"

"Can you, please, bring me, like, a couple boxes? Please," he begged.

She sighed. "Drake-"

"Please, don't fight me on this. It's just this one time. I just really need it. This is the last time, I swear."

"Babe-"

"PLEASE!" It came as a desperate growl tearing out of his throat. "I'm not gonna get hooked again. And I will do anything you want to make it up to you. It's just this one time," he repeated.

There was silence on her end, and each second that went by caused Drake's heart to beat a little bit faster. He looked up, the disappointment he felt in himself evident on his face. His eyes glistened with tears. He closed them, then tried to calm himself by exhaling through his nostrils. The next time he spoke, his voice was softer, but it still shook.

"Please, babe. I'm begging you."

He felt so undignified. It was nostalgic in a way. This was the person that he was always going to be — the fiend he always fought so hard to get away from, but he was back. This hunger was always inside of him, subtly planting seeds, steering him in the wrong direction, dismissing everything he'd ever learned about the whys and hows of sobriety. He was so quick to want to go back to a life of hunger, cold nights, sex work, and loneliness.

But like he'd said, this was going to be the last time. He wouldn't let it get that bad again. He just needed something to take the pain away, and then everything would be fine.

Finally, Dahlia spoke after letting go of her breath. "Okay."

Drake's insides were doing backflips, but he had to keep his outward excitement at a minimum. He didn't want to come off more desperate than he already had, if that was even possible. "I'm at the bar. Just text me when you get here." He thanked her, but she hung up without a response. He didn't care. He was going to see Charlie again.

* * *

Drake picked up another pen out of the floor, then put the cluster of writing utensils he was holding in the pencil cup that was on Ricardo's desk. That was the last of the mess he had made. Now his boss will never find out. He took a seat on the padded bench that was on the opposite wall as the large desk. He balled up his jacket, then laid on his side, using it as a pillow. All of the stress and the burning of his eyes from crying made him sleepy. He yawned, then rested his eyelids.

He felt a lot calmer now that he knew that his pills were on the way. He yawned again, so big this time that his jaw popped. He nestled his head into his jacket, taking comfort in the fact that, finally, things were starting to get better.

* * *

"Yo. Wake up."

The sound of the door shutting startled Drake. His eyes shot open and he lifted his head off of his jacket. Despite the fact that Martin had died almost three years ago, Drake still remained on high alert. He was always prepared to bolt or block his head if he needed to. He surveyed his surroundings, his tired eyes landing on Ricardo.

"Did you call Dahlia? She's waiting up front for you."

Drake looked at his phone and saw that he had received multiple text messages and calls over the span of fifteen minutes. "Shit!" He quickly stood and stuffed the phone into his pocket. He grabbed his jacket and slipped his arm through the sleeve as he made his way out the door and down the hallway towards the front.

His girlfriend was standing on the other side of the counter. When she saw him, she lifted her arms in question. "What the fuck? You told me to text you."

"Sorry, I fell asleep."

Drake led her outside, then pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one. This time, Clementine said nothing about it. The two of them made their way around the back of the building where the workers' cars were parked. She always parked here, too. They walked side by side. Drake took a long drag from his cigarette. Now that he had been woken up so suddenly, his heart was back to pounding against his chest. _Fucking anxiety._

"Are you alright?" the girl asked, watching his fingers tremble as he held the cigarette between two of them.

"I'm better now that you're here."

Clementine snorted, then playfully shoved him away.

Drake looked at her with a grin, which faded just as fast as it had come. "So?"

"Jesus, you can't wait until we get in the car? It's fucking cold out here."

When they approached the car, Dahlia got in. Drake leaned against the passenger's side door and took another deep inhale of the smoke, allowing it to fill up his lungs. Even when he finished the whole thing, he didn't feel any less nervous. He got inside the car and took comfort in the warmth from the heat blowing out of the vents.

"Did you get them?" he asked.

"Hey, Clem. Good to see you. Sorry I pulled you away from your study group and then left you sitting in the car for half an hour because I slept through your text messages and phone calls." She was exaggerating about the time, but that's just who she was.

Drake looked at her, then apologized like she expected. He leaned in and gave her a kiss. He didn't ask about his drugs again because he didn't want to be rude. However, she could see that his apology was insincere and the medicine was all that he cared about.

"Look, I didn't buy drugs for you," she said. "I'm not gonna do that." She watched as his smile melted into a frown, and his facial expressions changed from betrayal to hopelessness, then finally rage.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," he spat with venom spewing from his harsh voice.

Dahlia was shocked by his sudden change in attitude, and honestly, he'd never dared to speak to her like this before. She was the one who wore the pants in their relationship and she wouldn't put up with disrespect. "Excuse me?"

"I give you everything! I spend all my money on you! I do whatever you ask me to do! And the one time I need a small favor from you, you can't come through for me?! The fuck are we even together for?! I treat you like a queen and you just shit all over me and my needs! You're a selfish bitch!"

 _SMACK!_

The sound of skin against skin rang through his ears. He kept his head pointed in the direction that her hit had forced it. His eyes were suddenly empty, and it was as if he wasn't there at all. In his mind, Drake was back in that trailer park with his alcoholic father. He was trapped in the corner of the basement, naked and shivering, and Martin was winding his fist back for yet another punch. Being back here brought back those familiar emotions: vulnerability, self-hatred, hopelessness, a fear so paralyzing that he couldn't breathe, shame so consuming that he wanted to kill himself. Her slap had put him back in his place. She had reminded him of who he was, where he had come from, where he deserved to be, and what he had done — all of which he'd fought every single day to keep buried somewhere in the darkest parts of his mind.

The first thing Clementine noticed was his trembling hands, and when she looked back up at his face, she saw a teardrop on the bridge of his nose.

"Drake..."

He shook his head. He was trying hard not to cry, but he wasn't succeeding. He had a thousand pent-up emotions that were finally breaking through the surface. His bottom lip quivered, and he hung his head when his face twisted into a frown. His lips stretched tightly across his face, but he was using every muscle he had to keep his mouth closed and his throat from choking out the sobs that were gathered there.

"Baby..." She reached for him, but he pushed her hand away and shook his head again. However, she didn't give up. She put her hand on the back of his head, then pulled him closer until his head was laying on her lap. "Shh, it's okay," she soothed.

Drake broke down then. She was so kind, so now he had guilt to add to the list of overwhelming emotions that were releasing themselves through the faucets in his eyes and the jerks of his body. His hateful words towards her would just be another one of those things that his mental illnesses wouldn't let him forget about, and he'd spend the next several days — possibly even weeks — obsessing over how he could make it up to her.

"Talk to me, baby," she said as she pet his hair gently.

"I'm sorry," he said, his high-pitched voice cracking.

"What is up with you today? Did something happen?"

Drake was too loyal to keep secrets from her. "I went to see Meelah," he said, then he cried harder. "I know you told me not to and that you'd break up with me if I did. I don't know why I did it."

She was visibly displeased and even a little pissed that he hadn't respected her wishes. "What, am I not good enough for you?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Do you still have feelings for her?"

Drake sat up and finally saw the hurt on her face. He placed his hand on her cheek and brushed her hair out of her eyes as she gazed into his flooded ones. "I love _you_."

"But you'd rather be with her."

"I wanna be with you," he said, his voice rather whiny.

"That's fucking rubbish. If you did, you wouldn't go behind my back to see her and lie to me about it."

"It was a mistake. I'm sorry."

"Oh, brilliant." She sat back in her seat and looked out the windshield. Under her breath, she mumbled, "Fucking tosser." She marinated in her anger for a few moments, shaking her head with disbelief. "And then you have the nerve to ask me to get you high after you bloody lied. You're a user. That's what you are. Now I remember why I broke up with you."

Drake sat quietly and listened as she called him names, vented, yelled, and called him names some more. He could never stop loving Meelah, and he understood why that made Clem feel less important or second best, but he couldn't help how he felt. He was completely head-over-heels in love with Clementine, though, and he couldn't handle losing her.

"I fucked up," he said softly, "and I'm sorry. I know I come with a lot of baggage, and it gets to be too much sometimes, but I fucking love you more than anything."

She met his eyes and saw his sincerity.

"Please, don't leave," he begged. "Everything gets so messed up without you."

She allowed him to take her hand. He was truly the nicest person she had ever met, and he was right: he came with a lot of baggage. There were times like this one that it got in the way of their relationship, but she still wanted to make things work.

Clementine reached up and wiped away the tear that was trailing across his cheek. "I don't want you to get high again."

"I won't."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," he said, then he leaned forwards and pressed his lips against hers, his cheeks still wet and hers burning from her earlier anger. "I love you."

This time, she closed the gap in between them, then pushed her tongue into his mouth. She placed her hand on the side of his face, deepening the kiss, but he pulled his lips away and instead rested his forehead against hers. His breathing was already heavy, and he obviously wanted to go a lot further, but he didn't want to be stopped after he really got started and have to go back into the bar horny as fuck.

"Are you going back to study group?"

"No, I wanna be with you."

He pressed his lips against hers again, then made his way to her neck. She tilted her head back for easier access and closed her eyes, taking pleasure in his touch.

"Let's go to my place," she said.

He agreed, and as she put the car in gear, he pulled out his phone and texted Ricardo.

 **Drake: goin 2 clems 2nit wont b hime**

He smiled when he felt the girl's fingers on the crotch of his jeans. He leaned towards her and nibbled on her neck. As he did this, his hand disappeared under her dress.

She giggled. "I'm driving."

"You're so fucking hot," Drake whispered, earning yet another giggle from her. He then went on to tell her all the things he was going to do to her when they got to her house.

He could feel goosebumps rising on her neck. His hand was still hidden under her dress when she let go of a moan. She had to focus on keeping her eyes from rolling towards the back of her head. He started to pull his hand away so that she wouldn't finish, but she grabbed his wrist.

"Don't stop," she begged.

* * *

Drake pushed the shower curtain to the side, then stepped out of the tub and onto the pink, frilly rug on the floor. He had a pink towel wrapped around his waste, and he picked up the pink hairbrush that was on the bathroom counter and started combing through his wet hair. As he did this, he absently gazed at his reflection. His frame was still small, but he looked a lot better than he had two and a half years ago. His cheeks had color and were no longer sunken into his face. On one cheek were three red cuts, which were caused by his girlfriend's fingernails slicing into his skin when she'd slapped him during their argument in the car last night. On occasion, his eyes were still surrounded by dark circles, but that was something he had learned to live with. He always looked tired, but that's because he always _was_ tired — if not physically, then mentally.

Drake pulled the brush away from his head and saw a lot of his damp hair stuck in between the bristles. He would always lose a lot of hair, probably due to stress. Luckily, his hair grew back fast to replace the old, so it wasn't noticeable. He pulled the tangled strands out of Clementine's brush and flicked them into the miniature trash can. When that was done, he once again examined his reflection, picking apart and obsessing over every little flaw that he could find. His eyes landed on the spot under his right nipple. This is where his father had dug a scalding hot needle into his skin to permanently brand him with the words _WORTHLESS COCK-SUCKING SLUT_. Now, however, it was covered with a dark black square, and inside the square, one word stacked on top of the other, was _ER'UOY .YAKO_ in perfectly straight, white capital letters in the bottom left corner. Unlike most people, he never showed off the tattoo. It wasn't the kind of body art that he wanted people to see and compliment or criticize and ask for the story behind it. It was just a personal note to himself — a reminder. That's why it was written backwards. When he looked into the mirror, he could read it perfectly. It was just like how ambulances have _ECNALUBMA_ written on the hood of their vehicles so that cars in front of them can read what they are in the rearview mirror. In Drake's case, when examined through his reflection, his read, _YOU'RE OKAY._

He had two other tattoos, which served the purpose of covering up the self-harm scars on both of his forearms. During his stay with Coach Tad, he'd attempted suicide for the second time in his life. However, the man had intervened after finding him covered in blood in his bathtub. Since Drake was right-handed, the cuts on his left forearm were much deeper than those on the other arm, so he'd gotten that one covered first. This one was a mixture of dark, outer-spacey purples and blues and greens and oranges that danced across his skin like cigarette smoke in a cold, night sky. Ranging in sizes congruent to the planets were nine black circles stretching from his wrist and going almost as far as the inside of his elbow. The scars on the right forearm weren't nearly as bad, so he simply used his favorite John Lennon lyric: _WAR IS OVER_ stacked on top of each other — center-justified — in large, blocky letters, and a tiny _IF YOU WANT IT_ on a single line underneath.

Continuing his self-examination, Drake turned, then looked over his shoulder so that he could see the reflection of his back. This part of his body was a mess, and he always felt insecure about it. He had a couple dozen scars caused by Martin dragging a knife across his skin. Each one ranged in size from an inch long to half a foot except for one, which perfectly traced over Drake's spine from his neck down to his lower back. Thicker than those marks were the spots where the sharp, pointy blade had actually penetrated deep into his skin — one above his left shoulder blade and one under. These matched the stab wound on his stomach. Perhaps the largest and most noticeable scar was the discoloration splotched across his skin. It was mostly around the bottom left side, but there were places where this showed up in the crease of his back and around his shoulder blades. This had been caused by the brutalist rape he'd ever had to endure: Christmas Eve three years ago. His father had, before and during the forced entry, poured boiling water down his back until Drake had complied with the man's demands to say the most disgusting and perverse words that had ever been spoken from his lips. Although all of these scars were a reminder that he was weak and pathetic, this one in particular always led to fantasies of swallowing down a thousand bottles of pills or putting a gun between his teeth and pulling the trigger or tying a bag of rocks to his ankle and going for a swim in the deepest part of the ocean or...

Drake turned away from his reflection and closed his eyes. _Please, stop_ , he begged his brain.

Unfortunately, his brain was one of the most relentless forces known to man. _Remember the way he touched you? Remember counting each thrust — each time the sharp tip of his penis penetrated your insides and reached all the way up to repeatedly stab at your deflated and depleted heart? Remember begging him for it_ _— being forced to urge him to force himself on you faster...harder...harder!...HARDER! Remember praying to God that all the tears you cried that day would be enough to flood your entire room so that you both could choke on them and die? Remember his hand tugging on the part of your body that was meant to be kept private other than to yourself and your soulmate? Remember having to do the job for him when you couldn't climax while he stood above you...just watching at first, then trying to help by sharing erotic stories involving Audrey, Meelah (both an alive version and a dead version), Rhinestone, and Mindy? Remember laying on your stomach for an hour, still tugging, with your naked ass in the air and your legs spread and ready for another round, still tugging? Remember having more scalding hot water poured onto your back every time you tried to stop tugging because your arm got tired or every time you complained about how painful it was to keep trying to arouse your chafed and bleeding penis? Remember when you finally got hard, so he got on top of you to finish the job, squishing you into the mattress and making it hard for you to breathe? Remember having to masturbate for so long that you were actually relieved when you got aroused just so you could rest your aching, blood-covered hand? Remember asking God to help you stay hard long enough this time for your dad to get you off? Remember the sweat pouring off your forehead, your eyelids hanging low over your eyes, your mouth dropped open, your body trembling as your orgasm started? Remember moaning and panting into his neck when he pulled you closer and brushed your damp hair out of your eyes so that he could see the look of pleasure on your face? Remember being tossed to the ground afterwards, once again reminded of your useless existence? Remember-_

Suddenly, the door opened. "Oh, shit. Sorry." Her name was Samantha, Sam for short, and only her boyfriend got away with the occasional Sammy. She was tall and tan with bleach blonde hair and double D sized breasts. She worked at Hooters as a waitress and had a little yappy dog that liked to piss on every pair of shoes in sight and bark obnoxiously at strangers. Despite Sam's description, she was one of the nicest, realest, and most down-to-earth girls he had ever met.

"Nah, you're good. I'm done."

He squeezed past her, then made his way down the hall and back into Dahlia's room. The girl was on her phone when he opened the door. She set it down, then gave him a big grin as she reached her arms into the air and stretched her back. From this, it was obvious that she had just woken up.

"Hey, baby," she said.

Drake gave her a quick kiss, then sat down next to her. "Morning."

She yawned. "You work today?"

"Yeah. Ricky's gonna come pick me up."

She frowned, pushed herself onto her knees, and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Hmpf," she pouted, then kissed his neck. From his lack of reciprocation, she could tell that he was distracted by something. Her brows furrowed. "What's wrong, baby?"

He turned his head towards her, offered her a weak smile, then averted his gaze. He felt like crying. This was something to be added to his list of ever-growing downsides of not being on drugs. He used to never cry except on the occasion of receiving a vicious, relentless beating. Now he cried all the time. He woke up crying, showered crying, drove to work crying, watched a movie crying, fell asleep crying. Just last week, Ricardo had walked down stairs one morning to find the boy weeping in the kitchen. Through his blubbering, it sounded to Ricky like he got upset because the bowls were stacked so high in the cabinet that he couldn't get the one he wanted (or any of them because he wasn't picky) out of the stack without getting some sort of resistance. His struggle was a metaphor for his life. He always felt like everything was too hard, that he wasn't good enough, that he could never achieve anything. Simply getting frustrated with a stack of bowls for ten seconds sent so many self-depreciating thoughts through his brain that he wanted to kill himself. Needless to say, Ricardo made sure that both he and Julio never stacked the dishes that way again.

"Nothing," he said softly. Drake turned and gave her another kiss, this one longer than the first. "You want some breakfast?" Although this was her house, he found himself doing most of the cooking.

"Pancakes?"

Another quick peck on the lips. "Okay." And another, then Drake stood.

He opened the top drawer of the dresser. This was Clementine's underwear drawer, but it also contained some of Drake's belongings in the right half: a few pairs of boxers, two t-shirts, a box of unopened condoms (the open and nearly empty box was in her nightstand), a phone charger, etc. He grabbed a pair of boxers, then dropped the towel that was around his waste. On Dahlia's way to the bedroom door, she whistled and smacked the boy's ass, then made her way down the hall and into the bathroom. Drake pulled a Sex Pistols shirt over his head and, after making a mental note to bring some extra pants that he could leave here next time, he pulled out a pair of his girlfriend's jeans and slipped them on. He turned and looked around the room, finding the belt he'd removed before making love to Clementine last night, then he picked it up from the floor and started snaking it through the loops of the jeans.

When he was dressed, he went into the kitchen and again saw Sam. She was drinking out of the orange juice carton. Because she had just brushed her teeth, she winced and her nose turned up with disgust at the taste. She immediately pulled the carton away from her lips, twisted the lid back on, and put it back inside of the refrigerator. She then turned and saw that she had been caught.

"Shh, don't tell Dahlia." She grinned, and her eyes sparkled when she did so.

Drake knew that his girlfriend hated when people drank out of the cartons and jugs. Josh always had as well. He could remember his step-brother tattling on him when he spotting Drake in front of the fridge one morning. He actually missed that. He missed Josh a lot. He thought about him and the rest of his family all the time. He used to keep up with them on Facebook for a while, but then it became too hard to look at their pictures and statuses and know that they were living their lives just fine without him. He had always been tempted to strike up a conversation with them and maybe ask to meet up for lunch or something, but because of the promise he'd made to Walter to stay away, he'd blocked them over two years ago, so now he knew absolutely nothing about them and vice versa. He wanted so desperately for them to see him now so that he could show them how well he was, how clean he was, how responsible he was...how sorry he was. However, all of these were liable to change in one fell swoop. He could become a drug fiend living on the streets again in the blink of an eye. It was a day-by-day thing, so he couldn't promise that he would never hurt them again. That's why he could never go back.

"I'm making pancakes. You hungry?"

"Ooh, yes, please," Sam said, tying her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. Her dog hopped into her lap, then laid down as she picked up her phone and started scrolling through Instagram. "Jesus Christ, I follow way too many puppy pages." As Drake found the needed ingredients, she asked him, "Do I follow you on Instagram?"

He squatted and searched through the cabinets to find the right pan. "Nah, I don't have one."

"What?! You don't?!" Her eyes seemed to bulge out of her head at this. "Why not? You're fucking hot."

"I just don't really get on social media much," he said.

Drake's addiction had started back in high school, and everyday, his peers watched his life unravel before him. When summer break came, he'd managed to disappear until the night he'd filled in for Stavros and performed on stage with his ex band members Julio and Stevie. He had been high that night, too, and the audience had loved it. His band used to have somewhat of a cult following that liked to go to every gig just to see what kind of crazy shit Drake would do. Once, he'd vomited due to taking Charlie mid-performance, then there was the time that he finished an entire bottle of vodka on stage and proceeded to slur his words and stumble over the plethora of cords on the floor around him until, during the chorus of "Terrific," he'd just disappeared backstage without an explanation. Julio and Stevie had found him passed out on the couch in the green room. Another time, he'd gotten so stoned that he forgot the lyrics to one of their songs that he himself had written, so he'd just exhaustedly laid down right where he was on the stage and allowed Julio to take over the vocals, while he grinned stupidly and praised his beautiful singing voice. Everyone at that school had worshiped him. They either wanted him as a friend or a fuck. However, sometimes he searched Facebook for those whose names he could remember, and they either had envious careers or were getting there via college, or they were happily married, and some even had adorable little children. They had grown up and actually done something with their lives, while Drake, in the meantime, spent every second of every day trying to convince himself that he didn't need to get high.

He remembered running into some of his old classmates at Walmart during Charlie runs. Luckily, he was living with Coach Tad and didn't need to beg for spare change, but they could still tell just how strung out he was, and he could see that they knew. When his father had died, the story had been all over the news and shared repeatedly on Facebook, and although it never included Drake's name, everyone knew that it was about him because they showed the trailer Martin lived in in the articles and they used his dad's name. In the reports, they mentioned " _...the son, a victim of heinous physical and sexual assaults that are said to have been taking place for half a decade. During the attempted murder, he suffered from several violent acts being committed against him, including rape and vicious physical torture. We have a confirmed list of injuries, and they are as follows..._ " Headlines had read, " _WORST LOCAL CHILD ABUSE CASE IN AGES_ " and " _SON FORCED TO KILL FATHER TO STAY ALIVE._ " It was every news reporters' wet dream come true. During Charlie runs, he'd had a couple inconsiderate former classmates stop him for a chat and ask him about what had happened and if it was true. It was absolutely humiliating that people knew so much about the personal life that he'd worked so hard to hide. He could always remember worrying about keeping it hidden from his family and close friends, but he had never once thought about the possibility of the entire school learning his secret.

One encounter specifically stuck out in his memory. There was this guy on the football team who, despite having everything, was always jealous of Drake. His name was Colt. He used to push him around and tease him — nothing too serious, but Drake, who already had a low self-esteem thanks to his father, took a lot of his words to heart. Colt had stopped him one day when they were passing by each other at Walmart. He offered up an apology for everything he had done to make Drake's life miserable. He explained that he hadn't known about the abuse and wouldn't have acted that way if he had. He told Drake that he knew he had a drug problem, and he offered to help, explaining that he had went through it before with his oxy-addicted older brother. He was very blunt with the way he spoke. He didn't shy away from words such as _addict, murder, beat_ and _rape_. Overall, he was genuine with his apology and he honestly did want to help. However, having pity expressed to him by his high school bully was degrading. After getting the pills he had come for, he'd went home and cried in Tad's arms.

Although he wanted nothing more than to post a photo of himself on social media and show everyone who saw him as an entertaining train wreck that he was doing okay, he knew that more harm would come from it than good. People were judgmental as hell these days, especially in the comment section. They fearlessly and rudely say things as if the person who posted the picture wasn't reading every last comment. He knew he didn't have the mental strength to handle that. He'd much rather fade away from all of their lives as quickly and quietly as possible.

"Drake's cooking?" A boy entered the room. His name was Brett, but he also answered to Brat when his girlfriend called him that. He had sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He had the build of a football player, with muscles all over every part of his body. His six pack of abs was perfect, so unlike Drake, he wasn't too shy to walk around shirtless. However, out of respect for his girlfriend, he didn't do this publicly unless he went swimming or was doing some other activity where being topless was a must. "I love when you spend the night. You're literally better at cooking than my mom."

"That's not saying much," Sam said. "Your mom can't even boil water without burning it."

"Hey! Rude." However, he smiled, leaned over, and gave the girl a kiss."

Brat and Sammy have been together for about a year and a half. To Drake, they were the perfect couple. There was never a time when he saw them fighting. They had little mini-arguments here and there, but they always ended with cuddles and giggles. They were nothing like his and Clem's arguments, which involved screaming, crying, and physical violence. Theirs always ended with Drake apologizing for whatever, then, depending on Dahlia's mood, either make-up sex or a break-up, which also eventually always led to make-up sex.

Drake loved both Brett and Sam. They had been friends and living with Clementine since before her and Drake had met, so it should've been expected that she would spill all of his juicy abuse and addiction secrets to her best friends. When he'd found out that they knew, he'd blown up on her, then, like always, he'd later apologized. Both Sam and Brett were actually super cool and mature about the whole thing. They never made him feel embarrassed, and he actually liked that he had people that he could just be normal around. Sometimes, it was nice to be able to talk to someone other than Ricardo about certain things, and he didn't feel like he had to hide here. Take earlier, for example, when Samantha had walked in on him in the bathroom. The lock on the bathroom door was broken, so they had all walked in on one another naked at some time or other, and it was okay. When they saw his scars, they didn't act how his mom or Josh or some stranger on the street would have. They all had flaws and parts of their bodies that they hated, and everyone in this house had seen all of them, so it was okay. Finally, it was okay.

"Brat, look at this dog." Sam held up her phone. "Isn't he so cute?"

He could tell where this conversation was heading already. "We're not getting another dog."

She groaned and frowned.

"This loud fucker is enough, don't you think?" Despite his hateful words, he took the dog off of her lap and held it against his chest while running his fingers through its fur. "Good morning!" he said in a high-pitched voice, then made kissy faces at the animal.

It was then that Clementine entered the kitchen. "You really have Coco at the table? That's so unsanitary." She sat down as Brett put the dog in the floor.

Sam looked at her boyfriend and laughed. "Busted."

"You're the one that..." He rolled his eyes, which soon lit up again when he saw Drake set a slab of pancakes in the middle of the table. He grabbed four for himself, and the girls soon followed by taking two each, then passing around the bottle of syrup.

"Babe, grab me a Diet Coke?" Clem said with her mouth full.

Drake did, and he grabbed himself a beer. He passed along her drink, then sat down and opened his own. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see if Ricardo had sent a message saying how close by he was. He hadn't, but there was a notification alert on his Facebook. He opened it and saw that Sam had taken a selfie with Drake cooking in the background. The caption read, " _My fav butler is here. Guess who doesn't have to make breakfast today._ "

"Are you really drinking this early?" Clem's irritated voice pulled him away from the photo.

He put his phone down. "I mean..."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"It's just one beer," he said meekly.

"It's ten a.m."

"It's not like I'm gonna get wasted or anything."

Her eyebrows twitched in a sassy manner as she looked back down at her plate. She mumbled although she made sure he heard it when she said, "I just thought that after your dad, you would've done everything in your power not to be like him."

Her comment had cut through him like a knife, and it showed on his face. Dahlia didn't like that he drank, and he got that. He did get addicted to things easily, but he was pretty good about not drinking all the time. Well, he did work in a bar, so of course he drank most days of the week, but he didn't drink enough to really feel anything. He just liked to have a beer or two to take the edge off. He only ever got trashed once a month or so, but still, he wasn't violent ever and he never put her or anyone down like his dad had done to him. Despite all of this, he didn't touch his beer for the remainder of breakfast.

* * *

Ricardo watched as his friend got into the passenger's seat with a huff. He was going to ask if he was okay, but instead changed his route of questioning when he saw the scratches on Drake's face. "Did she hit you again?!"

"No," Drake said. He was still irritated about Clementine calling him out for drinking a beer, so a lot of his annoyance was unfairly directed towards Ricardo.

The man grabbed his face and turned his neck so that he could get a better look, but Drake shoved him away.

"Drake, what the fuck?"

"It's nothing." He knew that Ricky wasn't buying it. "Just a sex thing," he tried to explain.

The older of the two knew that he was lying, but he stopped his interrogation on the subject as he put the car in gear and backed out of the driveway. "So what happened yesterday?"

He shrugged. "It was just one of those days, you know?"

Ricardo glanced at him. It was obvious he wanted to go through with his ritual and ask his friend if he had used, but he refrained. He was trying to back off like he'd been asked to.

Drake gave him what he wanted anyway. He knew that it was important to 1). admit when he wanted to use and 2). keep the line of trust open between himself and the only other person in the world who seemed to have his back. "I was in a really bad place. I called Clem and begged her to come pick me up with Charlie." Although Ricardo didn't want to give off any sort of judgement, Drake could see his fingers grip the steering wheel tighter. "She didn't." He was always trying to prove to him that his girlfriend was a good person, so maybe this would help change his mind. "But I got pissed and yelled at her. We talked it out and we're okay." He shrugged, then quietly added, "I'm just really embarrassed."

There was hurt in his voice. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry."

"We've been working on this for so long. You've been doing so well."

"I know." And then a pause. "I feel really ashamed."

Ricardo knew that adding on more guilt wouldn't help anyone. He took in a breath to calm himself, then slowly released it. "Well, look, you didn't relapse, and that's what matters. And even after all of that, I am still so proud with how far you've come. You're holding down a job. You're coming up on a year of sobriety. You're doing amazing."

This seemed to lift his spirits a bit. "Thanks. Some days are fine, but then others are just..."

"I know."

"I just wish I could get to a point where I wasn't thinking about it every single day. It's so exhausting, but I know that it's something I'm gonna have to deal with for the rest of my life, and I just get so discouraged because I don't know how much longer I'm gonna be able to convince myself not to use. It's the same thing everyday — multiple times a day — and I just get so tired. I don't know if I can do this every minute of everyday for the next sixty years or so." He sounded hopeless and distraught, and it broke Ricardo's heart every time he started feeling this way.

"You know what they say. You just have to take it one day at a time. When you wake up in the mornings, just tell yourself that you're not gonna use. Just for today. Don't worry about tomorrow. Don't worry about next week. Don't worry about next year. Just give everything you've got to today."

Drake's meek voice expressed his doubt. "I don't think I've got much left to give."

"Hey," Ricardo said kindly. He met his eyes now that he was at a stop light. "I believe in you."

Jesus, here come the fucking waterworks again. Ricardo could never even begin to imagine how fucking much Drake appreciated him. He'd sacrificed so much for him despite the fact that Drake didn't deserve it. The boy owed him his life.

"I'm just really scared," Drake said. "I don't wanna end up on the streets again."

"You know I would never kick you out."

Drake wanted to believe this. After all, he was still living there despite his mess-ups, mood swings, and all around chaos. However, he never dreamed that his own mother would toss him out of his home either, but she did it twice. Everyone has a breaking point, and Ricardo wasn't immune.

Drake pulled down the sun visor and looked at himself in the mirror. He sniffled and wiped away the wetness around his eyes. They would be pulling up to work soon, and although it would just be the two of them for a while getting things ready to open the store, he didn't want to walk in there looking like a mess.

"Stop it, bruh. You're cute."

"Fuck off." But he was smiling. "Is Ms. Wendy coming in today?"

"Yeah, she's first shift with us."

Drake felt relieved. She could help fix his face in no time so that no one else could see the scratch marks. Besides himself, she was the only other Caucasian employee at Ricardo's bar, so she was the only one he could ask to borrow make-up from. This wasn't the first time that she'd helped him out with a problem like this, but she was always so nice about it.

"So are you gonna tell her it's a sex thing when she asks or...?" He grinned coyly.

"Fuuuck you."

* * *

"Alright, sugar. Good as new."

Drake turned towards the mirror to make sure the scratches were hidden. "Thanks, Ms. Wendy."

Wendy was a short ball of kindness in her late forties with big, light blonde nineties hair and a strong southern accent. Drake related to her more than anyone else here. She'd opened up to him about her past, explaining to him that she had put up with her abusive husband for eight years before finally filing for divorce. As she tried her best to acclimate to her new, single life, she sometimes saw him following her in public and she swore he had broken into her house on two different occasions. Fearing for her life and getting no help from the police, she moved from Alabama to California and has been here for two years now.

"I still think you should leave that girl," she said in her long, southern drawl. "Now I know it's none of my business, but you're too handsome to let this face go to waste on someone who doesn't appreciate it." She pinched his good cheek.

He smiled and humbly looked at the floor.

"Alright, let's get back out there."

Drake followed her up front. It was still early, so the bar was empty other than a couple workers and two regulars who practically lived in the barstools at the counter.

Wendy greeted them with a smile. "Hey, y'all. Having a good day?"

Jazzy, a sixty-five year old African American male wearing overalls and a trucker's cap gave her a gap-toothed grin. He had scratchy gray whiskers on his face and long ears. "Ooh, there's that crazy lady! I was wondering if you were working today, Ms. Wendy."

"I'm always working. If it's not here, then it's something at home. Yesterday, I tried to wash some clothes and come to find out, my damn dryer's broke down."

The man chuckled, then immediately erupted into a coughing fit.

"See, I told you to lay off them smokes now, didn't I?" Wendy said, wiping down the counter, then she playfully swatted at Drake with the washcloth. "You, too."

"I thought your girl got you to quit, Drake." It was the other regular, his name Phil. He was tan and balding, and the faded dark green tattoos on his age-spot splotched arms were stretched out slightly with the extra weight he had procured over the years.

Drake only shrugged as if to say he had tried.

Jazzy set down his beer, which he'd used to wet his dry throat and help with the coughing. "Hey, you smoke all you want if it helps you lay off those drugs," he said.

During the day shift, the bar was occupied mostly by alcoholics and the same frequenters who ordered the same things every time they came. The co-workers were all very open with one another and were a tight-knit group, and even some of the regulars were like family since they were here so often. Drake preferred this shift more than the second. It was more casual and laid back, and he got comfort in the feeling of community that came with it. Night shift was different. It was much busier. The employees were all still really close, and still regulars came then, too, but there were also a lot of young adults meeting up with friends or possible future spouses, partners, or one-night stands.

"Getting close to that year anniversary, ain't cha?" Jazzy said.

"Slowly, but yeah, it's getting there," Drake said, feeling a tinge of self-worth knowing that someone else was rooting for him to succeed in life.

"You're doin' alright, son. I remember when I was on that shit. Took me fifteen years to finally kick the habit. I was a wild child, too."

"Sugar, you never stopped being a wild child," Wendy said. "Now what have I told you about coming up in here with them dirty boots? You're messing up my clean floor. Everyday — a trail of dirt all over the floor leading right up to your stool."

Drake cracked a grin, then offered to clean the dirt up for her when she grabbed the broom. Wendy was always cleaning up after people, even when it was barely noticeable like this so-called "trail of dirt all over the floor."

"Thank ya, sweetheart. See, y'all. This is a real gentleman right here. Take some notes."

* * *

"And then — get this — the zombie beavers had actually cut the fucking phone lines."

"What the fuck?" Drake's brow furrowed and the corners of his lips curved upwards.

"Right?" Ricardo hefted a full garbage bag into the dumpster behind the bar, then grabbed the one out of Drake's hand. "I don't wanna spoil the rest of the movie for you, but you definitely have to watch that shit on our next Best Bad Movie Monday."

"Is it on, like, _The Room_ level?"

"No, you know no one can ever match Tommy Wiseau's pure brilliance, but still, it's worth the watch." He tossed the last bag, then they started making their way back to the bar.

"I definitely miss our movie marathons. I've just been so caught up with Clem-"

"Hey, don't sweat it. You're living your life, and I couldn't be prouder."

Movie marathon days were back when Ricardo wouldn't let him leave his sight during the early stages of recovery. This was back before Clementine, before the bars were taken off his bedroom window, before he had the freedom to go to the grocery store alone.

"Still, I know I need to make more time for you. I've just gotta learn to manage a schedule better. Like, I miss our guy time, but I just always wanna be around Clem, too."

"That's what happens when you fall in love." Ricardo pulled on the handle, then held open the door for his friend. "That's a part of growing up. You move in together, get married, have kids. You don't have much time left over for friends after all that, and that's okay."

"I just don't think I'm ready for all that."

"I feel ya. Look at me. I'm almost thirty and still single."

Drake thought that Ricardo was absolutely perfect. He was attractive, kind, and supportive. He was protective, but also had a soft side — funny, but could be serious when the situation called for it. The real reason that he thought the man was single was because he spent all of his time managing not only the bar and the house responsibilities, but also both Drake's and Julio's depression and anxiety — not to mention Drake's addiction, which was a full-time job on it's own. He didn't have time for himself, and Drake felt guilty about that.

"You can go ahead and clock out. I've gotta tell Georgiana we're leaving and make sure she has her keys to lock up." Ricardo went past him towards the front.

Drake stopped at the clocking station next to Ricardo's office. He found his card amongst the others, then punched his time in. He put his card back, then opened the office door and grabbed his jacket off the hook.

"You leaving?" Wendy said as she made her way to the back with dirty dishes.

"Yeah."

"I got an hour and a half. You work tomorrow?"

Drake stepped out of the room and closed the door. "No. I'll be here Thursday, though. Day shift again."

"Oh, great. I'll see you then. Have a good night, sugar."

"You, too, Ms. Wendy." Drake made his way down the hall, passing the kitchen. As he neared the front, he heard Ricardo's voice.

"You need to leave. You need to leave right now."

"He's here, isn't he? He's back there?"

"Get ou-"

"Drake!"

The young man froze when he heard the voice. He recognized it immediately. The sound of his name being called from those lips knocked the air out of him and made his stomach churn. He already wanted to throw up.

"Drake!"

"Get the fuck out of my bar," Ricardo said.

Drake felt like crying. His hands were shaking, and he'd lost all the color in his face. He wanted to run out the back door, but for some reason, his feet shuffled forwards instead.

"Get your fucking hands off of me, you prick!"

Finally, Drake made it to the front. He hadn't thought that he could feel any worse than seconds ago, but seeing that face again... He couldn't even begin to work through the emotions that were rising up from the deepest parts of his heart. At first, he felt humiliation, but it was immediately replaced with anger, then guilt, then humiliation again.

"Look, there he is. Drake!"

Although he couldn't take his eyes off of his visitor's familiar ones, he knew that everyone was watching him. They saw his knees trembling. They saw his fingers quivering as he tightly gripped his balled-up jacket. His brows were furrowed with confusion, making him look like a vulnerable and wounded animal. He was holding back both his tears and his vomit. The last thing he wanted was to cry or puke in front of all these people.

"I just wanna talk."

Ricardo gripped the man's jacket tighter and shoved him towards the door.

"Let me go! Drake, you owe me!"

The boy flinched when he felt a hand on his back. It was Wendy.

"Sweetie, come back here with me, okay?" She tugged on his arm to turn him around.

"After everything you did to me?! After using me and then running out the fucking door, you can't even face me?!"

"Come on." Wendy tugged again.

However, Drake pulled away from her and found himself walking towards the familiar face. He found his meek voice saying, "Tad?" There was so much hurt in his voice. How did he find me? Why did he come here? Why would he do this to me?

"Just let me fucking talk to him!" The man pushed Ricardo back.

Drake stepped in just in time. "Stop."

"Get out," Ricardo said. It took everything in him to keep himself from throwing this fucker on the ground.

"Not until I talk to him."

"You must not have fucking heard me-"

"Ricky," Drake whispered, "please, don't cause a scene."

The man looked around and saw all eyes on them. He moved his gaze back to Drake, who was red with embarrassment and close to tears. He had been so pissed about Tad's arrival that he hadn't stopped to think about the toll that this was taking on Drake.

"I'll just talk to him-" Drake started.

"No."

"It'll just be a minute, okay? It'll be fine." He wanted to wrap his jacket around himself and hide away from the world in it. "Please, just..."

Once again, Ricardo glanced around the silent room at all the people watching, then he glared into Tad's eyes, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. "I swear to God if you do _anything_ , I will personally find you myself and kick your ass like last time." He roughly let him go, then said to Drake, "I'll be in my office."

"It'll just be a minute," he assured him, then he led Tad out the front door and around to the back of the building. "What the fuck?!" His voice expressed hurt instead of anger. "Why would you do that?"

"I just wanted to talk."

"Now?!" There's the anger.

"Well, I wanted to talk about everything when it happened, but it's not like you really gave me a fucking chance to, did you?! You ran out the fucking door! I had no idea where you went!"

Drake wore the most pathetic expression on his face. He hung his head, too ashamed to look up at the face of the man whose dick he used to suck for drug money. "What do you want from me?"

"I just want an explanation."

Drake's face contorted when Tad put his hand on his bicep. _Don't start crying. Don't start crying. Don't start — Jesus, really?!_ He sniffled, then choked out a few sobs.

"Why are you crying?" Tad asked, his voice the same caring and compassionate one that he remembered.

"I'm just sorry," his voice cracked. "About everything."

"You really hurt me. I loved you."

"I know." He was cornered between the wall and Tad, and the man was gently brushing his fingers through his hair like he used to do to comfort him. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Didn't I mean anything to you?"

More sobs. He pushed himself against the wall further when the man stepped closer. "I'm so sorry."

The way the tips of Tad's fingers slid across his skin seemed to send him back to a time when he was desperate enough to do anything from drugs. He could remember exactly how the coach's hands felt rubbing all over his naked body. He could feel the weight on top of him. He could smell the sweat. He could still hear the arousing words he used to say to him. He could taste the cum — could feel himself choking on it.

"You can't tell me that after all that time we spent together, you have no feelings for me."

"I did a lot of things that I'm not proud of. Using you is one of those things."

Tad shook his head, then pulled away and watched Drake cry as his own tears began to form. Again, he shook his head. "No." Sniffle. "No, I refuse to believe that. You told me you loved me."

Drake shamefully covered his face with his hands. "I'm _so_ sorry."

"You told me that you loved me! Don't you remember that?!"

Drake felt like absolute scum. Whether Tad deserved it or not, breaking his heart was never intentional, and Drake was absolutely disgusted with himself for leading him on like he had. "Please, understand-"

"Understand what?!"

"I was in a bad place. I was really messed up. I didn't mean-"

"You used me?" Now it was starting to sink in. "You made me fall in love with you so you'd never run out of those stupid fucking pills?"

"You were so nice to me. You were the only one left who cared about me, and I took advantage of that. I'm so shitty. I know. I didn't deserve your kindness. I'm ashamed of the person I was on drugs-"

"You should be! You lying fucking whore! You broke my heart, Drake! Do you know how many nights I've stayed up crying?! I thought about you every fucking day! And look at you! You're doing just fine now! You got what you needed and you tossed me to the fucking side, and now look at me! I'm a fucking wreck!"

Drake was bawling his eyes out so hard that he couldn't speak. He knew exactly how it felt to be tossed to the side. His own father used to rape him and throw him down like an unwanted present on Christmas. He left him feeling ashamed and worthless. He left him questioning what he had done to possibly deserve it. He'd left Drake with sleepless nights filled with fantasies of slitting his own throat and hanging himself from the ceiling. He'd left him feeling like it was his own fault, and that was the worst fucking feeling.

"You bitch! I gave you everything, but it was never enough for you, was it?! Nothing's ever good enough for you, and nothing ever will be! You know that?! You're gonna relapse again, and now that you've betrayed the last person on earth who had your fucking back, you're gonna be alone. And when you're out there on those cold streets, hungry and withdrawing, you're gonna wish you still had me around, you pathetic fucking piece of shit junkie. You're _nothing_ without me! Don't let those people in there fool you. They don't give a goddamn about your pathetic existence. Do you hear me? I was the only one. Me! And now I'm done. How does it feel to be completely alone in this world, you complete waste of fucking space slutbag cunt?! Huh?!" Tad shoved him against the wall, then roughly gripped his cheeks and forced him to meet his eyes.

Drake was a blubbering mess. Everything the man said, he took to heart. "Ple-ee-ease..." He couldn't even continue to beg for mercy. His throat was closing up, and again, he was choking on his sobs. He squeezed his eyelids closed, too ashamed to meet his eyes.

Tad violently shook his jaw. "Look at me, you worthless whore!"

Drake's eyes snapped open and met the man's furious ones. Now they were anything but kind and compassionate, and his touch was anything but gentle. It was like looking at his father. His heart was beating rapidly now, fear creeping up his spine.

Tad began to speak again, his mouth filled with fangs and his words the venom that got underneath Drake's skin and would eat him alive from the inside. "I hope that one day, you take so many pills that you can't move, and I hope you lay there, fully awake, and choke on your own vomit. And I hope that there's no one around to help you, you sorry excuse for a human."

With that, he let the boy go, and that's when Drake noticed that he had been shaking the entire time. He wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to say anything, but he couldn't speak through his sobs. He had never felt so fucking shitty in his life. He wanted to die. He wanted to cut himself into a million tiny pieces and send them out to all of the people he had ever hurt so that they could celebrate the death he long-deserved.

* * *

Ricardo opened the car door, then got inside. Drake had texted him to tell him that he was ready to go home because he hadn't wanted to go back in there in front of all those people. The man could tell that he'd been crying, but it was expected. Drake cried about everything these days.

"How did it go?"

"Good actually. I feel much better now that we talked. I think we both really needed it. We made amends. That's one of the twelve-steps, right? It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

Ricardo had no idea that he was lying through his teeth. "What did he say?"

"He just told me that he was hurt. I explained everything to him and apologized. He got mad, and then he got sad, but then he started to understand."

"Wow. I'm really glad that it all worked out for you."

"Yeah, me, too." Drake forced a smile.

* * *

Ricardo's attention was pulled away from Netflix when an alert popped up on his phone to let him know that he only had 20% battery life. He reached for his charger, but found that it wasn't on his nightstand. Suddenly, he realized that, with all of the commotion going on at work, he'd forgotten to grab his cell phone charger. He cursed. He literally had ten minutes left on his _Shameless_ episode. Drake had gotten him hooked on the show because he and Dahlia were currently watching it and constantly talking about how great it was.

The man got out of bed and left his bedroom in search for a charger. He knocked quietly on the door across the hall to see if Julio was awake. He wasn't. He passed by the bathroom and came to Drake's door, which was cracked open. He pushed it the rest of the way and found that the boy's bed was empty.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Lookie who's back! It's been about five and a half months since I finished Charlie Horse. Hopefully, you guys are still reading. I've been working on this story a lot, so hopefully it's a fitting addition. I've got some crazy things planned, and I've already written a couple chapters ahead. Anyway, let me know what you think and if there's anything you really wanna see happen in this story. I think this one is mainly gonna focus on his recovery and life afterwards. I know, it took three stories, but finally, right?**

 **Anyway, please review. Y'all are great. That is all.**


	2. The Relapse Chronicles

Ricardo rapidly banged his fists against the door. If Drake wasn't here, than he had no idea where else to look. He had texted him when he saw that he wasn't in bed, but he didn't think much of it. However, when he didn't return his phone calls the next day, he'd started getting worried and called Clementine, who said that she hadn't seen him. He feared that his friend had relapsed, but he allowed him one full day before he went into full-blown panic. When he didn't show up to work on Thursday, he knew that something was wrong.

 _Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_

The door whipped open to a "Jesus, what the fuck?!"

"Where is he?" Ricardo pushed past Tad. "Drake?"

"The fuck?"

"Drake!" Ricardo searched each room, with Tad protesting the whole time.

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

When his search came up short, Ricardo confronted him. "Tell me where he's hiding."

"I can assure you that that lousy bitch isn't here."

"Excuse me? What did you call him?"

"Did I fucking stutter?"

"I thought you two talked everything out."

"Is that what he told you?" Tad chuckled. "Wow, is there anyone that slut won't lie to?"

"You didn't...make amends?"

Tad seemed to be enjoying his genuine confusion a bit too much. Seeing Drake hurt someone else made him feel much better. That dumb little shit was burning the only bridge he had left, and thanks to all the karma gods, Tad was getting to watch it first hand.

"I can't believe he would lie to me," Ricardo said to himself.

"Hey, welcome to the club."

"Shut the fuck up!"

Tad held up his hands in surrender, but he wore a giant smirk on his face.

"What did you say to him?!"

"I told him the truth. I told him that everyone would be better off if he killed himself."

"You son of bitch!" Ricardo gave him a hard shove, then stormed out the front door.

* * *

When Tad found his way to that familiar clearing where he and Drake had "made love" for the first time, he saw that, like expected, Drake was there. The shivering boy was sobbing into his knees. There were at least ten open boxes of cough medicine lying around him. Tad accidentally stepped on one of the plastic packages and a loud _crunch!_ emanated from it. Drake's head whipped up at the sudden noise, but when he saw who it was, his face contorted and he hid his head again.

"What, you've come to gloat?"

"As a matter of fact, I have."

"Go ahead. There's nothing you could possibly say now that could make me feel shittier than I already do."

Tad shrugged. "I'd like to give it a try." He looked at the empty medicine boxes again. "You took all of these just now?"

Drake didn't answer. However, he'd only taken three. The others were ones that he had taken since he'd left two nights ago. "How did you find me?"

"Your friend came barging into my house an hour ago thinking that I was hiding you."

Drake covered his dripping eyes with shame. "God, I really fucked up."

"No kidding."

"I can't believe I did this again."

Tad shrugged. "But it's no surprise, right? I mean, you had to have known... You couldn't possibly have believed that you were capable of staying clean forever."

Nine fucking months. That's how long he had been sober. All of that progress, in the blink of an eye, had vanished, and starting over seemed like too hard of a feat to take on again. He didn't want to be this way, and he knew he needed help, but he couldn't go back to Ricardo. He couldn't face him again after this. Who else did he have in this world?

Hoping that there was still some deeply-buried bit of compassion left in Tad's heart, he said, "Could you...maybe give me a ride? Help me get into a rehab?"

Three years ago, Drake would've shut down this very same notion. He could remember the countless times that his family had begged him to get professional help and, each time, he'd refused. Now he was desperate.

"I'm not gonna do that, Drake."

Despite his disappointment, he wasn't all that shocked. Why would Tad help him after he'd not only broken his heart, but also stomped it into the mud afterwards? However, it didn't make him any less upset.

"I really need help. I can't stop using."

What he needed was Ricardo — someone willing to put his own life on hold, someone willing to put bars on his window, someone willing to spend every waking moment with him glued to his hip, someone willing to listen to his constant negativity and whining, someone willing to sacrifice time and energy to force him to clean up because he knew he couldn't convince himself to do it on his own.

Tad's knees cracked as he pushed himself onto his feet with a huff. He brushed off his Khakis. "You know where to find me if you need money and I still have almost a full package of all those boxes of pills from the dark web."

Drake dropped his head between his knees to hide the disgust that was plainly plastered on his face.

"I can't help you with anything else." He started making his way back from the direction he'd come, then he said over his shoulder, "Better find some shelter. Looks like it's gonna rain soon."

Just as Tad walked away, Drake felt a drop of water land on his forearm.

* * *

A bell jingled when Drake opened the glass door as if the sound of his wet shoes squeaking against the floor wasn't loud enough to alert the motel receptionist of his arrival. He walked up to the counter and, although he was dripping water all over the floor, the employee didn't seem to care. Drake peeled away the bangs that were glued to his forehead and pulled at the shirt that was plastered to his skin, causing a suction noise.

"Can I get a room for the night?" He sniffled, then wiped away the rainwater residing under his nose. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, then passed his debit card and driver's license over. When a large notebook was pushed towards him, he picked up the pen that was chained to the desktop and signed in. Moments later, he received his cards back.

The receptionist handed him a key that had the number nine on it. "Check out is at nine-thirty."

Drake thanked him, pushed open the glass door, then made his way to his room. Since the pathway leading to all the doors of each room kept him dry via the overhead roof, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He was so cold that his fingers were shaking and the rainfall gave off so much wind that his nimble hands had trouble flicking the lighter. Finally, the end of the stick caught fire with a quiet crackle, the sound of which was drowned out by the storm. Drake let go of his breath slowly as he leaned his head back, then bent his knees with his back sliding against the wall until he was squatting. He took another drag, then wiped away some of the wetness on his face despite the fact that his soaked hands made it counterproductive.

He was fully aware that he could've just as easily made his way to a rehabilitation center instead of some seedy motel, but he knew he couldn't get clean unless someone forced him to. Also just as easily, he could phone Ricardo, but he was so disappointed in himself and he knew Ricardo would be, too. He didn't think that he would ever be able to face him again. He knew that his friend must be super pissed. All that time clean — and now he'd blown it. He couldn't start again. No way. It was virtually impossible.

He took another drag, then let go of a shaky breath. He felt so anxious. This was his second night in a motel room. That, along with the cough medicine, cigarettes and his dollar menu diet, had taken up a majority of the cash that he'd had in the bank. He knew that this would be his last night sleeping with the luxuries of a bed and blanket and roof over his head. He had to stop wasting cash on motel rooms and instead make sure that he had enough to keep a steady supply of Triple C's.

Drake hadn't heard the sound of room number eight's door open over the loudly pouring rain that relentlessly beat down on the pebbles and stones making up the parking lot, but when he saw a man walk by, his eyes followed him to a nice-looking car — a newer model and shiny even under the dim moonlight. It definitely stuck out in this particular part of the city, and the man looked just as out-of-place. He wore a nice suit and had an expensive gold Rolex on his wrist. He quickly got into the driver's seat to hide from the rain. Drake was blinded by the sudden flash of headlights, but soon, the car was gone, leaving him in the shadows again.

"Hey there," a seductive female voice said.

Drake turned towards the room that the man had just left and saw a woman standing there. She had messy, tangled, long brown hair. Her thin, chapped lips, discolored teeth, sunken cheeks and dark eyes immediately gave her away as an addict — most likely methamphetamines based on the sound of her teeth grinding. She looked close to sixty, but was probably in her thirties or forties. Basically, she was Drake from the future if he continued down the road he was on.

The young man was quick to turn his head when he saw that her robe stood open and she had no clothes on underneath. "Hey," he said back, keeping his eyes on the ground out of respect.

Seeing his discomfort, she tied a lose knot in the robe, then moved closer and rubbed his shoulder with her hand. Her middle and pointer fingers walked across his skin, up his neck, and then she brushed his hair away so that she could see his face. "How about some company?"

"I'm good. Thanks."

She was still touching him when she squatted in front of him, her robe hanging open despite the half-assed knot. Now he made eye contact to avoid looking at her breasts.

"You're a handsome one, aren't you?" She bit her bright red bottom lip with something that sounded like a moan. "I'll do you real good. Come on. It'll be worth your while."

"I don't have any cash on me." He knew that would get her to go away.

She frowned, then sighed. "What a shame." She pushed herself back up, then made her way back to her room. "What a damn shame."

Drake tossed out his cigarette butt, then stood and used his key to open the door to room number nine. He stepped inside, then flipped on the light switch. The bulb was dim, but Drake saw a full-sized bed covered with a stained comforter, a television that looked older than he was with a missing remote controller, and the largest roach he'd ever seen climbing up the peeling wallpaper. He closed the door, then immediately went over to the heater and flipped it on. He cupped his hands over his mouth, exhaled hot air into them, then rubbed them together, hoping that the room would warm up soon.

The young man made his way to the bathroom. He wasted no time before he pushed back the shower curtain and turned on the hot water. He stripped out of his clothes, then hung them out flat over the curtain rod so that they could dry out. He grabbed a towel and washcloth and tossed those over, too, then he stepped into the tub, allowing the scalding water to warm his shivering body.

* * *

Drake sat nude on the corner of the bed. His clothes were long from dry, so he'd probably have to sleep without them tonight. It was pretty pathetic that he didn't even have a quarter for the dryer in the laundry room. He took comfort in the heated room as he flipped through the channels on the tv. The picture was bad and had black and white static on every screen and the sound was warped, but Drake hated the silence. It only reminded him of how lonely he was.

As if that wasn't enough, as he turned to the next channel, he saw a familiar face. It was his step-father Walter giving out the weekly weather report. He stopped and listened to the sound of his voice. God, Drake missed him so much. He wanted nothing more than to be able to go back home and give him and the rest of his family a giant hug. If he had not of fucked up so badly, they would've been delighted to help him get into a rehab and he wouldn't even have fought them this time. He absolutely hated himself for relapsing — hated himself for letting things get to this point again. It wouldn't be long now until he became a twin to the lady in room eight next door. He had been there before and he knew that he would soon be desperate enough to go back again.

"And now back to you Sandra." And just like that, Walter disappeared from his life once again.

It wasn't until later when he was trying to go to bed that he realized he hadn't even heard what the weather would be like tomorrow. He prayed for sun. Just once, he hoped his luck would turn around.

Although he knew it was a horrible idea, Drake picked up the room phone and dialed his girlfriend's number. She didn't usually answer strange numbers, so he didn't hold his breath.

However, she did answer. "Hello?"

"Babe?" His voice came out meekly because he knew that he was going to be yelled at.

"Drake?! Oh my God! Where the hell are you?!" She sounded more worried than angry, which was shocking because it _was_ Clementine after all.

"I'm so sorry."

"Where are you?"

Drake looked around the dingy hotel room. Everything was covered in dust, the room smelled musty, and he was pretty sure he saw a mouse scurry across the room earlier. Similar to his life, it was a broken, worn-down mess. Just like this room, Drake had rats in his body, and they were relentlessly gnawing at the chunks of his brain, destroying everything he had learned about working towards sobriety, cherishing his relationships and bettering his life.

"Baby? Just tell me where you are, and I'll come get you."

"I love you so much." He sniffled. "I'm just so sorry," was all he said before he hung up the phone.

He couldn't handle talking to her because he felt so guilty, but he wanted her to know that he was okay and safe and she would relay the message to Ricardo as well.

He felt like shit as he rested his head against the pillow and pulled the comforter under his neck. He knew that he was hurting everyone who had ever loved him by doing what he was doing, but he couldn't get himself to stop. His life was an absolute train wreck and he knew it. He let go of his breath, then reached up and turned off the lamp, leaving him with only the light from the television and the buzz coming from the heater...and moments later, the constant banging of bedposts against the wall accompanied by his neighbor's loud moans and vulgar words. However, this didn't keep him awake. He was so tired from having to walk around the city all day that he wasn't even going to get high tonight. For the first time in a while actually, he slept soundly through the night.

* * *

 _(1 week later)_

Drake was laying on the hard ground in his usual spot at the park. He had been awake for quite a while, but he was out of drugs, out of cigarettes and out of cash, so he found himself remaining unmoving despite the fact that he needed to figure out his next move. He was cold and hungry, having not eaten in...how many days has it been? He hadn't showered since that night at the motel room, so even he couldn't stand the smell of his own putrid stench even though, since it was early December, his nose was constantly draining and he was running a fever on and off. Snot was dripping across his cheek. He wiped it away, then rubbed it off on his filthy, ragged jeans and sniffled.

 _Here're your options, Drake. You can either continue living like this, but since you're out of cash, you'll have to resort to thievery, begging and your all-time favorite, prostitution. You'll get to keep Charlie, get some food in your stomach, and maybe even afford a place to sleep if you really put yourself out there. If you work at it, things could actually be pretty okay. You and Charlie could live your twisted, drug-addled fairytale dreams together._

Or _you can make up your mind and get clean right now: go to rehab, clean up, get a job, start over. Very difficult, but still achievable. You don't want to be like this forever. You need to get help. If you check yourself in, you won't have to worry about food or shelter or warmth. It's all automatic. Plus, maybe taking the initiative to sober up again can convince Ricardo and Clementine to forgive your ungrateful and undeserving dumb ass. God, you've really screwed this one up._

Drake sneezed, then groaned in a whiny manner at the pain in his pounding head and aching body. He didn't want to move, but he knew he would have to whether he chose to go to rehab or to Walmart to re-up. He pushed himself to his feet, his stiff bones popping left and right. "Mmm..." He took a step, beginning his long and slow journey to either the new beginning of his life or the beginning of the end of it.

However, around an hour later, he found himself at neither Walmart, nor rehab. He looked up at the familiar house with hope, then dragged his exhausted feet across the yard and up to the front door. He pressed on the bell.

 _Ding dong!_

Moments later, he saw the blurred image of a woman through the glass. She looked just as confused as he was.

She unlocked the door, then opened it only by a couple inches. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Um..." Drake had his arms wrapped around himself, which made him look tinier than he already was. "Who are you?" He wasn't rude about it — just genuinely at a loss.

"I'm sorry?"

"Is this..." He looked around. Surely he had the right house. _I mean, it wasn't that long ago._ "My mom lives here."

The lady squinted her eyes, then shook her head. "No..."

"I don't...I don't understand." He was getting closer and closer to tears by the second.

"Honey, who's at the door?" Suddenly, a man appeared and opened the door even further to see for himself. "Can we help you?"

"He said his mom lives here," his wife whispered to him quietly.

The man immediately dubbed him as a junkie because who in their right mind would knock on a stranger's door at almost six in the morning? "I'm sorry. You've got the wrong address."

Drake lifted himself up on the tips of his toes to see over their shoulders. "Please, is she in there? I'm her son. She may have mentioned me. Her name is Audrey."

Unsure of what sort of behavior the young man was capable of, the husband stepped closer and pushed him back with one hand. "I would like you to leave our property."

"Mom?" he called. "Mom?"

"I'm gonna need you to leave now before we call the police," the man warned.

Drake backed off at this. He looked absolutely heartbroken, which seemed to lower the scared wife's guard a bit. "She's really not here?" his voice cracked.

"No one lives here by that name."

"We just moved in about three months ago," the wife added. She no longer saw Drake as a threat when she noticed the tears in his eyes.

"She didn't leave, like, a phone number or address or anything?"

"No, sorry," the man said.

His wife added, "And the previous owners were a young gay couple. Maybe she had given it to them. I'm not sure, but they didn't leave a forwarding address either."

Drake was crushed. He apologized for being such a bother, then turned and made his way back up the street. How could they do that? How could they just abandon him like this? Now he would really never see them again. They could be anywhere in the world right now, and he would never know. He knew that he couldn't have gone with them, but to know where they were would've been nice. At least, it wouldn't have felt like they were hiding from him.

Well, one thing was for certain. Rehab was definitely out of the question.

* * *

Drake felt so sick to his stomach that he was resorting to this again, but he had no other choice. He was heartbroken, and he just wanted to get fucked up and forget about the betrayal from his family. Unfortunately, he needed a little bit of cash for that. He sniffled, then wiped away the remaining tears and took a breath. _Stop being a bitch. No one finds whiny ass babies attractive._ He nervously combed through his hair with his fingertips, unsuccessfully trying to make himself look hot or cute or handsome or whatever the hell was wanted of him. He knew he was a fucking mess. Why anyone would possibly want him when he was like this was completely at a loss to him, but he was just thankful that they did. He reached up to press the doorbell again, but before he did, it opened. Standing before Drake was another boy close to his age. He was clearly very gay and, even clearer, very addicted to meth.

Drake's face expressed his confusion. "Um, I'm..."

The boy smiled as he looked Drake up and down with what felt like x-ray vision. He wore a look of satisfaction and a mischievous grin. "Drake, right? Tad said you'd show up sooner or later."

"I..."

"Come on in, sweetie." The boy opened the door wider and allowed him to step inside. "Babe, he's here!" he called.

Drake was immediately uncomfortable, and it showed in the way he presented himself — completely silent with his arms wrapped around his thin body.

"I'm honestly surprised you held out for so long. We both had our bets. Obviously, I lost." He held out his hand. "I'm Kyle by the way. I'm basically the replacement you. Sometimes he even likes to call me Drake when we're fucking."

Drake couldn't tell if he was just super talkative and blunt like Rhinestone or if he had recently used meth. Probably both. For some reason, his presence made the boy second guess his decision to come here. Despite the fact that Kyle was probably here for the same thing, Drake was embarrassed to be seen this way by this stranger. He'd thought that it would've just been himself and Tad.

Speaking of Tad... "Drake," he said as he rounded the corner. "Jesus. It's early as hell."

"Yeah, I just..." He swallowed. If he wasn't so desperate, he would turn around and leave.

As the man stepped closer to him, his nose turned up. "Christ, you reek!"

Drake hung his head with shame. "Sorry."

"Kyle, why don't you fix up a bath for our guest?" To Drake, he said, "We'll wash your clothes for you."

"Come on, sweetie." Kyle grabbed the boy's hand, then led him into the bathroom. "Go ahead and undress." He turned the nozzle, then held his hand under the freezing bath water.

Not wanting to disobey for fear of pissing either of them off and being kicked out without drug money, Drake began stripping off his dirty, ragged clothes.

Kyle looked in his direction. "How long did you stay with Tad?"

"Not long," Drake answered quietly. "You?"

"Four or five months. Something like that. Honestly, I don't even know anymore." It made since that his days ran together because the meth kept him awake sometimes for a week at a time. "You got your scar covered," he noticed.

"Um, what?"

"Tad told me about...you know."

Drake pulled off his underwear, then stood fully exposed in front of the stranger.

"Don't even worry about it. I was raped when I was younger, too." He added, "By my uncle, though."

"Oh," was all Drake could think of to say. He wrapped his arms around himself once again.

Kyle noticed this, so he grabbed a bottle of bubble bath and poured it into the water, then gave Drake an understanding smile. "To help you relax."

Fucking bubble bath? What a joke. Nothing short of Charlie could calm Drake's nerves.

His host had a keen eye, and nothing seemed to get past him — most likely because he used to be where Drake was. "Look, you kinda need to get rid of that wounded puppy dog face before you get out. Tad's not gonna like fucking you if you don't look into it." He shook the water and bubbles off of his hand when the tub was filled up with warm, soapy water, then he stood. "I've got something that could help. You know, down there. You've just gotta work at looking like you wanna be here up here." He placed his hand on the young man's cheek, then offered another kind smile.

When he was gone, taking Drake's repulsive clothes with him, Drake got into the tub. He let go of a shaky breath as he allowed the water to warm him and slow his heart rate. This was the same tub that he had tried to kill himself in. In retrospect, slitting his wrists probably wasn't the best way to go. Hanging would've been much faster, and he probably would've succeeded with that one. He was just so scared of drowning and being strangled, like his father had so often done to him.

It wasn't too late to call all of this off. He could always leave. Despite how pushy he was, Tad would never grab him and hold him down and force him to do anything. But if he left, what then? He'd be right where he started, with no cash, no drugs — nothing.

Going back to Ricardo just seemed like such a bad option. He knew that he could. He knew that Ricardo would always accept him back with a warm hug, but he didn't deserve this. The man had sacrificed so much for Drake just to go and fuck it all up in one night. He couldn't bear the guilt of ever forcing Ricardo to do it all again and again and again because — let's face it — who's to say that this would be his last relapse? He had seen the toll that his addiction had taken on his family and he couldn't ever ever ever put someone else through that. He couldn't let himself become a burden. If he wanted to clean up, he had to do it alone, and if he didn't want to clean up, well, he had to do that alone, too.

 _Just get up and walk out the fucking door. It's not that hard. At least you'll still have your dignity._ However, he felt like he couldn't move. It was like Charlie was sitting in that tub with him, holding him still like Tad had all those years ago during his failed suicide attempt.

Minutes later, the door opened and Kyle stepped inside. He handed Drake a pill. "Viagra," he said at the young man's questioning look.

He had never needed to take it before, but he wasn't sure if his depression and disgust would let him get hard, so he took the pill and thanked the host, then downed it with the glass of water that was offered to him.

"Don't tell Tad. Nothing against him. He's just not my type. You know how it is. I can tell you don't play for his team." Kyle held up a box that contained a bit of meth he had just crushed up, asking if Drake wanted any.

Drake would've taken any drug he could get his hands on, so he accepted. Kyle carefully poured the powder onto the edge of the tub. Drake leaned over and pressed in one nostril, then followed the line with his other while inhaling. Immediately, a pain so immense hit him that he felt like his skull was being cracked open with an icepick. He clutched it. How could he have forgotten about the pain snorting meth caused? Thankfully, it was gone mere seconds later. He wiped his nose and sniffled.

"You alright?"

He nodded. "Thanks. You're really nice."

"Hey, don't worry about it. People like us need to stick together. It's all any of us really have left." He snorted his own line, then offered a smile. His compassion led Drake to feel like he could open up to him.

"I don't know how I ended up here again. I was almost a year clean, and then I just fucking blew it."

"I haven't been over two months clean since I started using meth two and a half years ago. At least you're not on meth. I've never heard of people getting addicted this hard on Triple C's, though."

"I know. It's so fucking pathetic. There's no bad withdrawals or anything. It's literally all in my head, and I know it, but I just can't stop. That's one of the reasons I don't like going to NA. Everyone there is on heroin or meth or coke or oxy or some shit. They go through actual painful withdrawals and the drug really fucks them up chemically, but here I am whoring myself out for a two-dollar box of cough medicine. It's embarrassing." Maybe the meth was kicking in. That's probably why he was talking so much.

"Maybe you should think of it more as a blessing that that's your drug of choice. When you're ready to quit, all you have to do is convince your mind — not that I'm saying it's easy by any means. Trust me. I get it. But at least you don't have to deal with the physical agony that I'm pretty sure God created on purpose just to punish us junkies."

"I'm convinced that God hates us and that's why he put the shit here in the first place. Even when I'm sober, the littlest thing can send me spiraling out of control: a drug dream, a light that's either too dim or too bright, the taste of certain sodas, driving by fucking Walmart. Just tiny little things that don't seem to bother normal people at all. It's like no matter what, I can never get away from it, and I don't know if I can learn to co-exist in a world with drugs my whole life without using them."

Half an hour went by of the two non-stop talk, talk, talking before Tad finally pushed open the door. "Are you two done sucking each other's dicks because mine is waiting?"

Drake suddenly couldn't remember how long he had been sitting here and what all he had told Kyle. "Sorry," he said.

When Tad had disappeared down the hall, Kyle rolled his eyes. "I'll leave you alone to finish up. Babe gets cranky when he doesn't have his morning blow." He used his hand to imitate a blowjob and pressed his tongue against the side of his mouth with each "tug."

* * *

Drake had bathed, showered (because the bath water had been too dirty to wash his hair in), combed through his tangles, and brushed his teeth (with someone else's toothbrush). He was ready, but still not presentable. He kept staring at himself in the mirror, trying to get that "wounded puppy" look off of his face, but instead getting caught up in wondering who the hell he was and why he was doing this.

 _Fuck, Drake, stop being a little bitch. You chose to use again. You chose to let it get to this point. You chose to come here. You chose to still be here even though you could've left at any moment, so man the fuck up and do what you came here to do._

Never in a million years would Drake ever had guessed he would be here, standing in front of a mirror practicing the facial expressions he would use during sex and seduction. He had to make it hot. He had to make it believable. He had to get that stupid fucking pathetic look out of his eyes! _Goddamnit! Can you at least act like you wanna fucking be here, you worthless piece of shit?! Jesus!_ He lowered his head, his hands resting against the sink. _Just do it for Charlie. You're doing this for Charlie._

The door open to reveal Kyle. "Ready, babe?"

He was holding his box of meth again, already ready for more. He and Drake both snorted another line off the sink. Kyle brushed his fingers through Drake's bangs to tidy them up, then he led him into Tad's bedroom.

It looked the same as it had despite the fact that it had been about two and a half years since Drake had lived here. Same boring, white walls, same boring, cluttered dresser, same boring, ugly matching comforter and curtain set. The only thing that was different was a giant mirror at the head of the bed. This wasn't here when Drake had lived here. He could feel his heart racing again as he stepped inside. He was greeted by Tad's wide smirk.

"It's about time you two showed up. I was beginning to think I was gonna have to tend to myself."

 _Wait. You_ two _? Kyle's staying?_ Drake got his answer when the boy shut the door behind them and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Make yourself comfortable, Drake." Tad motioned towards his bed.

Drake joined the other boy his age at the foot of the bed. Kyle noticed his fingers trembling and grabbed one hand to hide it and let Drake know that he needed to get control of himself. He didn't know why he felt so scared, but he had a strong urge to run up to his mother and hold onto her tightly. He would've done it, too, had she of been there. He wanted nothing more than to be a little kid again. He could remember tripping over a rock and scraping his hands and knees badly while rollerblading on the driveway once. He had screamed bloody murder and Audrey had ran up to him, scooped him up in her warm, comforting arms and kissed the top of his head a hundred times while rocking him back and forth. He longed for that now, only this time, his boo boos were on the inside and they were much deeper and painful than the thin layer of scraped skin. They were wide-open gashes and cuts and never-healing scars that he used drugs to dull the pain for, but that was basically like putting a band-aid on a broken leg.

Tad interrupted Drake's thoughts with his first of many demands. "Kiss."

 _Back out now, Drake, because this is the point of no return! Just fucking leave!_

However, Kyle put his hand on Drake's cheek and pulled his head so that he faced him instead of Tad. "I got you," he whispered quietly to reassure the boy before connecting their lips.

Drake closed his eyes and went along with it. If he had to do this with anyone, he was just glad that it was Kyle. Despite their short time together, he felt like he knew the boy's entire life story. It was probably the meth. Definitely the meth. Kyle was pretty experienced in the subject, it seemed. Drake followed his lead, using tongue when Kyle did first, biting lips when Kyle did first, touching his body when Kyle did first. He was beginning to think that they had done this before with another "alt Drake." Either Kyle was damn good at what he was doing or the Viagra was kicking in because Drake felt his lower member stiffen against his jeans.

"Help each other undress," Tad directed from the chair in the corner. His hand was down his own pants.

Drake pulled Kyle's shirt off, then vice versa. Once the warm and recently-dried shirt was removed, he felt goosebumps rise up on his body. Kyle was wearing sweatpants, so Drake pulled them off of him, feeling the boy's boner as he did so.

"Get on top of him, Drake."

Kyle slid back further on the bed, and like commanded, Drake climbed on top of him, then continued kissing him.

"Let me see tongue."

At this, the two boys basically left out their lips completely and were just licking one another's tongue, teeth, and mouth. Drake just tried to block everything out — tried to do as he was told. _Just do it for Charlie. Just do it for Charlie._

Kyle pushed Drake up, then started unbuckling his belt as the boy straddled him. He pushed down his jeans and boxers, then grabbed his butt and pulled him closer, grinding his hips against him as he guided Drake's lips to his neck. Still, Drake followed his lead. He felt Kyle's nails dragging up his ass cheeks, then they grazed across his back, up between his shoulder blades and back down again.

"Go down on him, Drake," Tad said after watching them make out like this for a while.

 _You're doing fine. Don't cry. This will all be over soon and then everything will be okay again. It's nothing you haven't done before._ He really didn't want to do this, so he took his sweet time making his way down there. To stall, he sucked and nibbled on Kyle's skin, starting from his neck and working his way down the middle of his torso as he pulled the young man's briefs down his legs. For Tad's benefit, he showed off some tongue work on Kyle's belly button and was relieved that it was clean. He hated doing extra, but if he showed initiative, it would make it look like he was actually interested in the sex as well. If he fucked things up today, he would have to resort to the truck stop, where he'd have to suck off sometimes fifty and sixty year old men who were repulsive in every way.

He finally made it to his destination. He started by working his way down the shaft, flicking Kyle's tip with his tongue, then finally, he took the whole thing in between his lips, his head moving up and down over Kyle's lower region. The boy moaned. Some almost inaudible noise left Tad's throat as well, but Drake was able to hear it.

"That's it," Tad breathed to himself. He was now fully naked and lathering up his erect penis with lubricant.

Kyle grabbed ahold of the headboard tightly, then blew air out of his mouth. Although Drake wasn't gay, he knew how to give a fantastic fucking blowjob. After all, who knows what guys want better than a guy? Kyle let go of another moan.

"Don't cum yet," Tad said.

Kyle squeezed his eyes closed and tilted his head back, panting for breath. Another moan, this one louder. To slow things down, Drake pulled his lips off of the head and worked his way down the shaft again, then took one of his balls in his mouth and sucked on it per Tad's request.

Soon, Kyle was on his knees with Drake behind him, kissing his back and working his way down his spine so that he could, as Tad had demanded, "eat him out." Drake couldn't keep the dam back anymore. His soundless tears left his eyes as he pulled Kyle's cheeks apart and stuck his tongue inside. He had never orally stimulated the backside of even a girl before. It wasn't something that he was into, and he felt disgusting. Kyle could tell he was inexperienced by the sloppy job he was doing, but he cut him some slack and pretended to enjoy it for Drake's sake. Tad had a front-row seat to this show, for he was lubing up Drake's hard rock. The man set the bottle onto the nightstand, then finished pulling the boys' underwear the rest of the way down their legs.

Drake was grateful when he was told to stop. Without much of a warning, Tad thrusted into his backside. A yelp left the boy's lips. It had been years since he had last had anal performed on him, so he'd forgotten exactly how it had felt. Tad then ordered him to start pushing into Kyle, so obediently, he did. Pretty soon, Kyle's arm reached back and grabbed Drake's, then guided his hand around so that he could jerk him off at the same time.

Tad's sexual technique was now a lot different than Drake remembered. He used to be gentle, but now he penetrated him so hard that he started bleeding. The man grunted each time as if that got him in further. Drake just tried to rhythmically take it and give it at the same time, all the while giving out a handy.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling absolutely on top of the world. He couldn't describe the orgasmic pleasure he felt, but it was soon so great that it canceled out all of the negative thoughts in his brain for the time being. Under Tad's orders, they were all moaning, yelling, talking dirty, cursing — whatever as long as they kept it noisy. The man grabbed a fistful of Drake's hair and yanked it, earning a pleasure-filled yelp. He was forced to stare into the mirror at Tad's eyes as they fucked. Sweat poured from everywhere. It dropped from their hair, their faces, all over their sticky bodies. The sheets were soaked. There was a constant sound of slapping as skin hit skin hit skin. Drake felt sore and bruised as he consistently rammed into Kyle's bony ass, but at the same time, it all felt so good.

Tad could see that Drake was clearly going to be the first to crumble under all of the pleasure. He snatched his hair back some more. "Don't you dare fucking cum yet, you filthy whore." He smacked his bottom so hard that the sound rang through Drake's ears.

Sweat poured off of Drake's face and landed on Kyle's back. His arm was aching and cramping up as he continued to tug on him. "I'm gonna cum."

Again, he was spanked, but he couldn't prolong it any longer. He blew his load, a spectacular eight-roper inside of Kyle (with his permission, of course), and the bottom immediately followed, shooting his sperm all over the sheets. Tad shoved Drake to the side, flipped Kyle over, then covered his face in his white discharge.

"Lick it up."

Drake leaned over and cleaned off Kyle's sweaty face with his tongue.

This round was one of the many that Drake had to endure over the longest four hours of his life. They would all take turns to allow one another some rest and recharge. It was Drake/Tad, Tad/Kyle, Kyle/Drake, all three or just one masturbating. They were doing all kinds of positions, some that Drake had never even heard of before. He was so glad to have been given the Viagra and meth because there was no way in hell he could've made it through without them.

* * *

Although Drake had assumed that things were going back to how they used to be — with him living there and sleeping with him for drugs — Tad told him that he couldn't stay, which really hurt Drake's feelings, but he understood why. Drake had broken his heart and Tad was trying to keep things as a no-strings-attached kind of thing. If Drake lived there, that would bring back all those old emotions the man had tried to bury for so long. But still, where was he supposed to go now?

Kyle met Drake at the front door with a nervous frown on his face. "Don't get pissed. This is what he said to give you." He handed over a grocery sack and some cash.

Drake looked in the bag and saw five boxes of Triple C's. That should be enough to get him through the day. It'll definitely fuck him up enough so that he could forget about what had transpired here for a while at least. The young man then counted the money: a ten and two fives.

Kyle spoke again before he could say anything. "I'm so sorry. He wasn't even gonna give you any money at first — just the pills — but I convinced him to give you something. But still, twenty dollars. So fucking cheap. You worked your ass off. You deserve more than that." Kyle felt horrible when he saw the boy's eyes water over. "Maybe you should go talk to him."

That was a good idea. Drake stormed past him and burst into the bathroom, where Tad was showering. "What the fuck?!"

"Yes, Drake? Do you have a problem?"

"Do I have a problem?! What the fuck is this?!" He held up the money.

"That's your payment."

"Twenty fucking dollars?! Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Seeing that the boy wasn't going to be so quick to give up, then man turned off the water, then stepped out of the tub and wrapped his towel around his waist. "Look, Drake-"

"How could you?!"

"How much do you think you should get? I've already fucked you plenty of times and I used to only give you a couple boxes of cough medicine in return. Now you wanna up the price? Your penis isn't made of gold last I checked."

Drake was so enraged that he screamed through clenched teeth and shoved the man backwards. Luckily, he hit the wall and managed to catch himself before falling.

Tad retaliated by grabbing Drake by the throat and shoving him up against the wall. His voice was quiet. "Listen to me. Don't you ever lay your hands on me or disrespect me like that ever again, you fucking whore. You're going to knock on my door and beg, and then pitch a fucking fit like a little baby?"

"Tad," Kyle said from the doorway. He could see that the man was blocking Drake's airways.

"Nobody fucking gives a shit about you, Drake. Nobody. That's why you're here. So for you to throw this ridiculous tantrum and expect me to put up with it is completely asinine. You should be thanking me for letting your pathetic ass back into my life."

Once again, Kyle tried to step in. He rubbed the man's arm. "Baby, come-"

"GET THE FUCK BACK!"

Terrified of this new side of Tad, he obeyed.

Drake gasped for air, let go of a cry, then gasped again. His eyes were wide with fear as tears poured down his cheeks. He hadn't been grabbed like this since around the time Martin and Marcellas were in his life. Tad was saying a lot of similar things as they did, too. A flashback of the night his father had tried to strangle him to death popped into his mind. Fear crept up his spine.

"You think you can just prance back into my life and I'd fall to my knees and start worshiping you again? No, I'm afraid the tables have turned, honey." When Drake's eyes closed, Tad slammed his head against the wall. "LOOK AT ME!"

Drake obeyed, his brows furrowed with desperation. His fingers trembled as he tried to pry Tad's hand from around his neck. Meanwhile, Tad rested his free elbow against the wall casually and held up his head with that hand. He chuckled with disbelief as he watched the helpless boy squirm.

"God, I just... I mean, the audacity you have — it's just incredible. After using me for months, manipulating me so that I would fall in love with you and do everything for you... And you're really gonna act like I owe you something?"

More gasping. Drake made eye contact with Kyle, then reached out for him pleadingly.

"Stay," Tad commanded.

"Tad, you're gonna kill him!" Kyle begged, stepping forwards and gripping his arm despite his orders.

The man spun around and shoved the boy back until he fell on the floor outside of the bathroom. He then locked the door, all the while, never letting go of Drake's neck. Now the man started lifting him, and once Drake's toes were off the ground, his gasps for air were no longer audible. The young man squeezed his eyes closed, but tears still flooded their way through.

"You have broken the hearts of everyone — every single person who has ever given a shit about you. And you think you deserve shit?! You are nothing!" the man spat. "Nothing! Nod if you understand that."

Drake did his best attempt at a nod.

"Good. Now I'm gonna let you go, and you're gonna say _'Thank you, sir, for your kind hospitality and amazing sex. I'm sorry I'm such a selfish asshole and manipulative bitch.'_ And then you're gonna leave here — no cash, no pills. And if you choose to come back, you make sure you approach me with complete and utter respect and I'll give you a couple boxes of those stupid fucking pills, but the money is off the table permanently."

At long last, the man let go. Drake could still hardly get any air into his lungs through his sobbing. He weakly dropped onto his knees and hung his head, his entire body shaking.

"Thank you, sir, for..." Tad started.

Drake started to speak, but was instructed to look him in the eyes, which made it a thousand times more humiliating. "Thank you, sir, for your kind hospitality and amazing sex." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry I'm such a selfish asshole and manipulative bitch." He only said it in hopes that he could change Tad's mind about the money and drugs.

"Now get the fuck out of my house, you whiny little shit, and don't come back until you learn some fucking manners. Do you understand me?"

"Please!" Drake croaked. It was hard to speak after nearly being strangled to death. "I have nothing! I have nowhere! I have no one! I'm tired! I'm hungry! I'm cold and I'm so scared! You're right! No one gives a shit about me, and I did that to myself, I know! I have nowhere to go! I haven't eaten in a week! I'm gonna die on the streets and no one's gonna give a shit! I'm begging you! Please, just help me out! I'm so sorry for being such a greedy prick! I'm just so fucking scared!"

"Grow up, Drake. This is the real world. This is the life you chose. You want some fucking handout, you get it from somewhere else."

Drake's face contorted as he hung his head. Everything he had just gone through — everything he had been uncomfortable doing — it was all for nothing. Now he was leaving empty-handed. When Tad unlocked the door and opened it for him, Drake pushed himself out of the floor and briskly walked past Kyle, hanging his head with shame. He was bawling loudly as he hurried out the front door and speed-walked down the sidewalk.

* * *

Drake had cried for hours, replaying the entire sexual encounter over and over again in his mind. He had felt absolutely disgusted with himself and, when those familiar thoughts of suicide started taking over his brain, he knew he needed to do something. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so of course, he ended up at the truck stop. He only sucked off one guy, then used the fifteen dollars to buy five boxes of cough medicine, an off-brand two liter Diet Coke (swallowing the pills wouldn't be as hard with this sugarless drink), and a Lunchable's pizza. So here he was in his usual place at the park, everything empty except for the half-full bottle of Diet Coke still left and his pill- and pizza-filled stomach. Five boxes was a lot for him, so he was passed the fuck out, but pretty soon, he'll wake up and the high will wear off and again, he'll be left with another craving to fill.

* * *

 _(2 weeks later)_

Drake was doing pretty well at the truck stop. Of course, he was still homeless and having to resort to prostitution, but on the positive side, one of the truck drivers had given him a blanket and he was making adequate money. At the park where he slept, he had a grocery sack full of his belongings. It wasn't much, but he could afford basic hygiene products like toothpaste and soap. He carried these with him to the truck stop when he needed more cash or even just a shower. He even had shampoo and conditioner. Drake had bought a cheap four dollar shirt and another pair of pants so that he could rotate them out. He washed them in the bathroom sink, then hung them from tree limbs at the park to dry. To cure the boredom, he had a deck of cards and was playing solo games of Solitaire and memory match even though they were unbeatable on account of the fact that his six of clubs had blown away during a sudden gust of wind. He also had a notepad, which he used as a journal basically. Although three meals a day was still considered a luxury to him, he had enough food to keep the hunger pangs away.

All in all, everything was going great except for one thing: Walmart was currently out of Triple C's. Drake had spent his drug money instead on a bottle of vodka. He hated vodka with a passion, but it was cheaper than beer, especially since it took a lot of beer for him to really feel something. No matter how much alcohol he drank, it just didn't feel like enough. It felt good, of course, but it was a different buzz than that of Charlie. Alcohol made his world spin, made him feel content and gave him warmth during the cold December. Triple C's did all that, too, but more. They made him completely and wholly numb, but at the same time, he could feel things like his heartbeat and breathing so clearly. Not only was his vision blurred, but his thoughts portrayed vivid hallucinations right in front of his eyes. His possibilities with Charlie were infinite. He could lay there and hallucinate being in outer space or with an alive and well Meelah or even sitting in the Oval Office with the president if he wanted. Charlie just made everything feel so possible.

The vodka had depressed him. Drinking only ever made him crave the high of Triple C's even more, but he'd continued to swallow down the liquid until he had finally gained enough courage to do what he knew had to be done.

The young man knocked on the door, then stood there, already ready for what was to come. It was like he was a different person than he had been weeks ago. Maybe living out on the streets on his own had hardened him a little bit, or maybe his constant use of Charlie had numbed him enough to not wallow in self-pity and shame. Those weren't even thoughts in his mind right now.

When the door opened to reveal Tad, Drake said nothing. Instead, he pressed himself against the man and connected their lips, pushing him against the wall as he flicked the door closed behind him. The man was in shock, but it didn't take him long to get his lips moving. He rubbed his hands up and down Drake's body as the boy started talking dirty, informing him that he was Tad's for the day and he could do anything he wanted to him. The man then took a few steps forwards, forcing Drake to back up until he fell backwards over the arm of the couch. Tad removed his shirt, then climbed on top of him. The younger of the two wrapped his arm around the back of Tad's neck to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He slipped his free hand into the waistband of the man's sweatpants and underwear, earning a moan as his cold hand touched him.

Eventually, they ended up in the bedroom and did it several different ways. At one point, Tad was blindfolded and cuffed to the headboard, and Drake took a page from Molly's book and stimulated the man with an ice cube and coffee before grinding on top of him.

Close to two hours later, they were both so exhausted and worn out that they fell asleep. Having slept on the freezing, hard ground for so long, the soft bed and warm temperature knocked Drake out cold. When he finally awoke, Kyle was back from wherever he had been earlier and was penetrating himself with Drake's erect penis while Tad watched. The young man paid no attention to the fact that they were doing this during his slumber and without his knowledge. Instead, he got ready to put on another show for his supplier.

* * *

While Tad was showering, Kyle allowed Drake to use the man's laptop to check his messages. Drake wasn't sure why he cared, but he was considering sending Clementine another apology. How could he possibly get into words the guilt that he felt for doing this to her, though? What could he say that could make this better? There was nothing.

He opened up his Facebook, and, not surprisingly, his inbox had several unread messages. Three of his coworkers expressed their concern and support. They were actually really nice about everything. The people at the bar hadn't even crossed his mind honestly, but now that he was reminded of them, he felt bad about leaving them to stress over being short-staffed, being overworked, and his well-being. They were such a good group of people and, finally, Drake had felt like he actually belonged. They didn't judge him, and they all gave him infinite encouragement and he did the same back. Everyone working at that bar had a lot of bullshit going on in their personal lives and it was like he had a family backing him up for the first time in his life. Unsure of how to respond to them, he left their messages unanswered, then opened the one from his girlfriend. Actually, it was more than one. As he scrolled through, he noticed that her tone changed from desperation to disdain and, as the days passed, she was sending less and less messages. In fact, the last one was from three days ago. Here are a few:

 **Clementine Dahlia Martin: please come home. I miss you**

 **Clementine Dahlia Martin: just let me know ur ok**

 **Clementine Dahlia Martin: whatever im fuckin done. Is that what u want? Ur just gonna leave things like this? U cant be arsed to send me one fuckin text or call or anything? WANKER!**

 **Clementine Dahlia Martin: srsly I hate u rn**

 **Clementine Dahlia Martin: ive never met someone more selfish than u. Ur out there fucked out of your mind probably and u left me sitting here to worry if my bf is even alive or not and thats fucked up drake! But i dont care. I bet ur well chuffed huh? Karmas gonna come back to bite u and im gonna be moved on and ur just gonna be stuck doing what ur doing alone, sitting there like the pathetic bellend u really are.**

What could he possibly say to that? An apology? " _Rubbish_ ," is what she would say. Words only mean so much. " _If you were truly sorry, you'd come back._ "

He also got a kind, supportive message from both Sam and Brett.

 **Samantha Watson: Drake! I miss my fav chef and video game partner! Now im stuck with Brat, and u and I both know neither of us can beat the daddy boss on re7 without u! For real, tho. Come home. I miss u.**

 **Brett Monty: Bro u probably have been hearing this alot lately but we all miss u. Whatever ur doing out there, I just hope u stay safe and take care of yourself. Obviusly dahlias not doing so well. Im sure she's sent some fucked up messages but u know she cares about u, so don't take them to heart. Sam and I will always be here for u bro with whatever u need. We love u so much, so I hope u clean up. I know it's hard. I just don't want u to end up like my dad because I care about u bro and I don't think i could handle another person I love od'ing. The addict in u is probably saying a lot of fucked up shit to keep u down, but just know that u make a lot of lives easier and u make a lot of people happy. I don't care what ur dad told u or what "charlies" tellin u. U deserve so much more than what u think. I don't know if I can be much help, but u know I don't judge and I'm always willing to listen. If u need to talk or meet up and don't want me to tell anyone, u know I will. I just wanna know that ur safe and get u back home. Ur my best bro for life.**

Brett's message had him close to tears. How could he go back there? After everything he's done? All his life, he had longed for people who cared and actually understood him and what he was going through, and now that he had those people, he wished that he didn't. It would be much easier to go on living his life the way he was if he didn't have people being this supportive. Don't get him wrong. His family had tried hard, too, but they didn't get it. They only wanted to send him away to rehab and that's not a bad thing. Not at all. But they still wouldn't have understood after he got out. They would sweep it all under the rug and pretend it had never happened — probably to protect their own sanity, and that's okay. But these people get it. Brett had opened up to him before about his heroin-addicted father, who had died four years ago via accidental overdose. His childhood hadn't been great. In fact, it was kind of shit, but instead of remaining close-minded and bitter towards addiction, he did tons and tons of research just to try and understand why his father had chosen drugs over his own son. Maybe he didn't understand first-hand Drake's point of view, but he was one of the few who tried, and that's all that Drake ever wanted.

Julio sent a brief but heartfelt message explaining that he and his brother weren't mad and begging him to come home. Drake had a hard time reading it and seeing his best friend so vulnerable. Usually, it was the other way around. He was the vulnerable one.

Finally, he opened Ricardo's dreaded message. He was the one he felt most ashamed betraying. Without him — there's no doubt about it — Drake would've been dead by now. He literally owed the man his life, yet Ricky never asked for anything in return other than complete and total honesty. That was it. Drake had lied to him about how he and Tad's conversation had went at the bar that night. Why did he lie? Because whether Drake actually knew at the time or not, his subconscious knew that he was going to use that night. The inner addict in him took over, setting up what was about to be his worst relapse in two and a half years. All of this could've been avoided. All he had to do, like he'd promised Ricardo he would, was be honest.

During his sober years, honesty had become his most noticeable trait. It wasn't only important for him to tell the truth; he put a lot of trust in those around him to be honest with him. If you didn't have honesty in a relationship, did you have anything?

 **Ricardo Santos: Drake, I want you to know that I'm not mad at you, but I am disappointed. I just wish you would've told me, but that's in the past and all we can do now is move on. Please, let me help you. You have too much going for you now to just throw it all away like that. We can do it again. You can do it again. Just come home. Please. I promise we-**

Drake didn't even get a chance to finish before he saw three dots appear at the bottom of the screen. _Fuck, he's writing._

 **Ricardo Santos: You're onlin**

 **Ricardo Santos: waiyt**

He was typing in a hurry, so his words were all messed up.

 **Ricardo Santos: don't logoff**

He'd read Drake's mind. The boy's inner addict was screaming at him to put down the laptop, but the real Drake — the kind, honest, locked away and crying out for help Drake — had taken control.

 **Ricardo Santos: plez**

 **Ricardo Santos: I won't nag you. Promisew**

 **Ricardo Santos: let me justntake you out and buy dinnee.**

Although normal Drake had taken over his mind and convinced him to sit there, addict Drake had control over his fingers.

 **Drake Parker: cant**

 **Ricardo Santos: plez. Look I won't beg you to come back or force you to get clean or anything. I just wanna buy you a meal. I promise.**

Drake thought it over in his head.

 _Normal Drake: It's a free meal, no strings attached. What's the harm in that?_

 _Addict Drake: Do you really believe that? Remember last time when he practically showed up and kidnapped you?_

 _Normal Drake: Maybe it's not such a bad thing._

 _Addict Drake: Of course it's a bad thing!_

 _Normal Drake: As opposed to what? Coming here and getting fucked fifteen different ways just to get high? This isn't you, Drake._

 _Addict Drake: Pardon my reality check here, but this_ is _you. You're a junkie. You're a prostitute. Going back there won't change that. No matter how many times you try to clean up, you'll always end up here. Always._

 _Normal Drake: Yeah, well, probably. But like he said, it's just dinner. Unless you wanna risk asking Tad for cash or go to the truck stop and give a quick blowjob for a cheeseburger, this is a good idea._

 _Addict Drake: He's gonna talk you into quitting._

 _Normal Drake: Then maybe I should. I mean, Jesus, look at you. Look where you are._

Drake bit his bottom lip nervously, then began typing again.

 **Drake Parker: ok**

Ricardo took a moment to respond. He was probably just as shocked as Drake was.

 **Ricardo Santos: Okay. Great. Applebees? 4 o'clock?**

 **Drake Parker: ok**

* * *

Drake's hands were trembling in the cool December air despite the fact that Kyle had surprised him with an old jacket as a gift. (Apparently it was Christmas Eve. Who knew?) It was hot pink and didn't match his clothes, but it was too cold outside for Drake to care. He took a puff from his cigarette, keeping his head down as he made his way down the sidewalk. The sky was getting pretty dark since it was somewhere between five-thirty and six o'clock. Obviously, he was running late, but that was kind of on purpose.

Drake had spent his day after leaving Tad's getting high off of his pills and, during his fantastic trip to Wonderland, Charlie (or maybe Drake's inner addict) had talked him out of meeting Ricardo for dinner. However, the high was gone and, although part of him obviously didn't want to come, there was that other part of him that knew that he needed help. This was it for him. This was his last chance. Either way, he would show up to Applebee's and be disappointed. Either Ricardo had left, sealing Drake's fate as a homeless addict, or he was still there, waiting patiently for his friend to make the right choice and arrive, which means that Drake would probably have to decide his own fate and whether or not he was going to quit and that would suck. It would be much easier to be able to blame Ricardo.

Drake veered off the sidewalk and made his way across the parking lot, flicking his cigarette to the side. He took a breath and reached for the door handle, but once he did this, he heard his name being called.

"Yo, Drake." Ricardo closed his car door and jogged over to him. Apparently, he was just about to leave.

 _Addict Drake: If only you had waited another minute before coming here._

The man wrapped his arms around Drake, and it wasn't until then that he realized just how cold he had been. He returned the hug, the kind touch feeling nice since, recently, he was used to much rougher, compassionless hands.

Ricardo noticed that Drake was much thinner in the three weeks that he had been gone. He was pale with contrasting dark circles around the entirety of both eyes. Ricardo noticed that he had freezing hands and a feverish face as he embraced him. The jacket was new and clearly not his taste, but the rest of his ensemble was the same thing he had been wearing the night he ran away. They looked worn, but they didn't stink and his hair was surprisingly clean. Either he was staying with someone or he had been homeless so many times that he was becoming resourceful. Judging by his Converse, which were much muddier than when he'd left, Ricardo assumed the latter.

Drake broke the silence. "Sorry I'm so late," he said as he pulled away from the hug. "I just got caught up with-"

"It's okay. I'm just glad you showed up," he said. "I got booted from the table. You wanna find a diner instead?"

"Sure." Drake followed him to the car. Once it was cranked, he turned up the heater and made sure the vents were pointed in his direction.

Ricky noticed this. "Was it a long walk?" He was curious to know how long Drake had spent outside in this weather.

Thinking that he was referring to his lack of punctuality, Drake replied with, "I just had to do something first."

For someone who was so pro-honesty, the lies were rolling off of the boy's tongue easily, Ricardo noticed. It was like a stranger was sitting next to him.

Drake fiddled around with the radio and they mostly kept quiet until they arrived at the diner. Ricardo followed his lead, and Drake chose a booth in the corner. Although he looked hygienically okay unlike the last time he'd lived on the streets, he preferred to be hidden away. A waitress approached them with a friendly smile and wrote down their requests. Ricardo wanted a patty melt with a tea, and Drake asked for a chicken finger basket and a Coke. Wanting to be sure that his friend had enough food to get filled up (because he knew the boy wouldn't ask on his own), Ricky ordered an appetizer of cheese sticks. When the waitress walked away, the man looked at Drake observantly. He kept his eyes low and didn't talk unless spoken to first.

"So how are you?"

"I'm really good actually, you know? Everything...everything's good." He nodded, but still wouldn't meet his friend's eyes.

"Good."

"What about you?"

"Yeah, everything's good."

"Good." Drake could see that their conversation was going nowhere. _Is a free meal really worth this? I'd rather be at the truck stop than here._ That thought sent a mental red flag up to his brain. _If you'd rather be blowing some old stranger than breaking bread with a great friend, then maybe you're further gone than I thought, Drake._ The young man decided to let some truth show. "Hey, man, look, I'm sorry about the bar. I didn't mean to leave you hanging. I just..."

Like earlier when he had tried to fake an excuse for being late, he expected Ricardo to brush it off and tell him not to sweat it. He didn't, so Drake just left his sentence unfinished. He was saved by the waitress.

"Okay," the woman said as she approached. "Here's your tea." She set a glass down in front of Ricardo, then one in front of Drake. "And your Coke. Your appetizer should be ready soon."

The boys both thanked her. She set down two straws before checking on another table. Drake picked up his, then tore off the paper and put the plastic in his cup. To have a reason to avoid talking, he drank some of the Coke.

"So what have you been up to lately?" Ricardo asked. He tried to avoid talking about drugs because he promised that he would, but now he was starting to realize that Drake's whole life was about drugs right now, so the conversation would soon run stale if you didn't already consider it to be.

"Um, you know. Nothing really. Hanging out with a couple friends or going for walks. My life's pretty boring." It wasn't exactly a lie. He was pretty much walking all day, and it was a stretch, but maybe you could consider Tad and Kyle and the guys at the truck stop to be his friends. "But enough about me. What about you? How are things with the bar? Did you hire someone to replace me yet?"

"I haven't actually." Ricardo was still convinced that Drake would come to his senses and sober up. "Last week, we had a surprise health inspection."

"You passed?"

"Yeah, but we got docked points because Marisol had her fingernails painted again."

"That bitch," Drake joked.

Ricardo's lips twitched into a smile, but only for a second. "Other than that, things have actually been going pretty smoothly."

Again, they were left in an awkward silence. This time, however, the waitress didn't approach and save them. Ricardo looked at his friend, who kept his eyes low as he played with the straw wrapper, rolling it up, then unrolling it and rolling it again. He had invited Drake — not the other way around — so he needed to keep the conversation running and earn back trust. Drake would be much more susceptible to making the choice to eventually get clean on his own if he knew that the man had no hard feelings.

"Any Christmas plans?"

"Not really. I might drop by and visit some friends." Depending on how tired he was after his sex-filled day and this actual full-sized meal, he might just turn in for the night after this, but Tad's was always an option. "What about you?"

"Julio and I are going to our mom's tomorrow for dinner."

"Your dad and step-mom aren't doing anything this year?"

"Theirs was today. Mom and Dad didn't wanna deal with having to talk to each other, but they didn't want a repeat of last year either when they both had dinners at the same time, so we went over there today to avoid all that shit." And then: "Which reminds me..." Ricardo unzipped his jacket and reached over to one side, pulling out a thin, dented box. He passed it over to the boy. "From Dad and Gabriella."

Drake's heart broke a little, and it showed on his face. Having lived with Ricky and Julio for two and a half years (and being friends with Julio forever), both their mom and dad accepted him as their own. They knew about his baggage, but they still loved him anyway.

The young man started peeling the tape away from each side.

"They're sorry that you couldn't make it." He watched Drake take off the lid, then pick up the long and thin Tupperware that laid in a ziplock bag on top. "Gabriella made arroz con leche just for you since you ate pretty much all of it last year."

Next, Drake pulled out a folded up long-sleeved sweater. It was dark blue with a large, white " _D_ " sewn on the front, and on the back across the shoulder blades in jersey form was the name " _Santos_." It was ugly as fuck — don't get him wrong — but the fact that Gabriella went so far out of her way to let Drake know that he was part of their familia gave him a sense of value.

"Julio and I have matching ones, too." Ricardo pulled open his jacket again to show his green one with a large " _R_ " smack dab in the middle. "You're lucky. I couldn't get out of wearing mine. But it is super warm, though."

"This is really so nice." His furrowed brows and quiet voice expressed his guilt for having not shown up.

"I see someone else has given you a Christmas present."

He noticed the man looking at his hot pink jacket. "Um, yeah. My friend gave it to me today."

"Did your friend also give you that?"

Drake was confused until Ricardo pointed to his neck. He used the napkin dispenser at their table to check his reflection and saw multiple hickeys around his neck. "Shit," he whispered, trying to cover them with his jacket. The fact that his cheeks turned a bright red let Ricardo know that he was ashamed of them and therefore probably got them doing something he didn't want to admit, like prostituting.

"Are you staying with this friend?"

"I'm... No." He knew Ricardo was hoping for more, so he said, "I'm kinda doing my own thing, you know?" Translation: I'm homeless, but don't worry about it. Please, change the subject.

Ricardo's heart broke as he examined the boy sitting across from him. He was so desperate to get high — to feel some sense of okayness — that he was willing to give away something so precious — something only meant for himself and Clementine to share. The man wholeheartedly believed that, had Drake not been a victim of multiple sexual assaults growing up, he wouldn't have ever thought that it was okay or acceptable to sell himself like he did. Both Tad and especially his father had really fucked him up. He couldn't even begin to imagine the kinds of things Drake was out there doing just for a fix.

* * *

 _(1 month later)_

Drake tilted his head back as he continued to play with himself. He was breathing hard and sweating and he moaned excessively to put on a good show for the man watching from the sidelines.

Over time, Drake had gotten used to the fact that this kind of thing was what he had to resort to for money. Used to, he just did a couple blowjobs here and there when he needed drug money, but now he had started doing it more and more often for things that weren't as high on his priority list (although maybe they should have been), such as food and a couple new outfits from the Goodwill and a motel room. Instead of one or two performances of oral sex, he would spend hours here so that he could make enough for basic necessities.

He wasn't as against anal with strangers as he used to be. He didn't do it often, but if it was requested of him, he accepted at a higher rate. Usually, he was asked for blowjobs or handies, and occasionally there were different requests, like this one. The man literally gave him twenty-five dollars just so that he could watch him masturbate, and everything was going just fine until...

 _Knock! Knock! Knock!_

"Go away!" the man yelled towards the door. "I'm busy!" He turned back to Drake with a nod.

The boy continued, but was interrupted again when the passenger door opened.

"Honey, it's me."

Drake saw a glimpse of fear in his client's eyes before the man turned around to block his wife from entering. Unfortunately, he was too late.

"I thought we could — OH MY GOD!" In her shock, she dropped the Tupperware full of food.

Since the blanket was on the top bunk, Drake quickly sat up, grabbed the pillow his head had been resting on, and covered himself as best as he could.

"DRAKE?!" she screeched.

"Mrs. Hayfer?!"

Mrs. Hayfer: his high school nemesis. She was his twelfth-grade math teacher, the one who had flunked him, therefore convincing his mom to leave him behind at his father's during there summer vacation. This woman had started the whole chain of events that basically led Drake here.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" She noticed a bulge in her husband's sweatpants. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Both of the guys started apologizing frantically. Drake was actually scared. She looked like she was going to murder him. He had subconsciously backed himself into the corner as if prepared for a beating.

"YOU CHEATING BASTARD!" Her hand furiously made contact with her husband's cheek. The sound was so loud that it silenced both men.

"AND YOU!" Mrs. Hayfer growled in Drake's direction. "What is this?! Some kind of revenge because of how I treated you?!"

"Please, I didn't know he was your husband. I swear. I didn't know."

"Why are you here anyway?! What happened to you?!" If she wasn't so pissed, this could've almost passed for concern.

The man answered this one. "He's just a whore, Alice. He doesn't mean anything. He approached me desperate for cash. I tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't listen. He was all but on his knees begging me for money. You know me. I've gotta big heart. I couldn't say no."

Despite being thrown under the bus, Drake wasn't about to be responsible for yet another broken-up marriage. Although it wasn't the complete truth, he went with it. "He's right. I'm so, so, so sorry. I swear I didn't know he was your husband." He had his hands held up in front of him as if he was ready to be dragged off the bed and kicked Martin-style. His fingers trembled. "He wasn't doing anything. It was me. I practically gave him no choice."

"What the _hell_ are you doing having sex with strange men three times your age at truck stops?!" his former teacher asked.

"Get out of here!" her husband yelled suddenly. "Get out, you fucking whore!"

Drake quickly made a grab for his boxers, his face red and wet. _Shit, am I really crying in front of these people right now?!_ He put his underwear on faster than he ever had in his entire life, then he searched the floor for the rest of his clothes.

"Go, you stupid slut! Fucking junkie! GO, WHORE!"

Drake only held his shirt and one shoe when the man grabbed his throat and shoved him against the back window. Although he was enraged about the entire situation, he took it out on Drake and hoped that it made himself look less guilty. He smacked the boy across the face.

"Do you fucking hear me, you conniving little shit?!"

"Garrett, stop," Mrs. Hayfer chimed.

Drake could taste blood, but that was hardly his focus. "Yes, sir."

"If I ever see you around here again, I'll cut off that fucking dick of yours and we'll see how much money you make then! You fucking pathetic dope fiend!"

"Please." He was terrified of this man. He genuinely feared for his life and it showed in the way his body shook and his eyes poured with water.

"Do you understand?!" Without giving him time to respond, he added, "ANSWER ME!" He slapped him again.

Drake fell this time, then Garrett grabbed a fistful of his hair and started yanking him towards the front. The man kicked the passenger side door open, then dragged a screaming Drake across the seat and shoved him out the door. It was quite the fall, seeing as they were in a tall tractor. Most of his weight landed on his hands, which of course, buckled underneath him, causing his chin and forearms to hit the concrete. His knees also suffered a great deal of the damage. They were badly scraped and bleeding as well since he was wearing only his boxers and had no jeans to protect them. Drake opened his mouth and let go of a sob. As he did this, a string of blood and saliva dripped down onto the asphalt. Apparently, he'd bitten his tongue super hard during the collision. His face contorted as he pushed himself up, again letting go of a cry of pain.

"And fucking stay out!" Garrett was still yelling. He spat on the boy.

When Drake got on his knees, he noticed that his former teacher's husband wasn't the only one berating him. All of the ruckus had attracted a small crowd of assholes. Somehow, Drake had managed to remain clutching his shirt. He slipped it on, and then was hit in the back of the head by Garrett throwing the one shoe he had dropped during the struggle. This earned a wave of laugher from their audience.

"Fucking cunt whore!" Garrett taunted. "Hey, everybody, look at this little desperate piece of shit trying to jerk off his tiny dick for some spare change! Why don't you all help him out?!"

Drake hefted himself onto his feet. He decided to leave the shoe behind. It was useless since the other one was lost in the tractor somewhere. He winced when he felt something hard hit the side of his face. He looked down and saw coins scatter across the concrete. Soon after, another handful was tossed his way by one of the rowdy group members watching this all transpire.

"Pick them up, whore!" Garrett yelled. "You're gonna need them!"

A month ago, he probably would've collected the coins, but the only thing he really needed was Charlie and he was getting that from Tad, who still ordered the pills in bulk from the dark web like he had when Drake had lived there. Everything else — food, shelter, hygiene products — wasn't as important to him, so he wasn't willing to sacrifice anymore of his dignity by picking up the spare change.

"He spends so much time on his knees that they're bleeding," an audience member joked, earning a lot of laughs.

Drake wrapped his arms around his thin frame to protect it from both the cold and another handful of coins being hurled at him. He started walking as fast as he could, his vision blurry through the tears.

* * *

He was still crying when he got to the park. The reason he had stopped here was because it was closer than his motel room and he needed pants ASAP. His bare legs were freezing and his knees shook so much that it was hard to walk. He opened a book bag he had bought and had perched up against the tree trunk in his and Meelah's spot. He pulled out two pairs of sweatpants and put them both on, then grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around himself. He was so cold that his teeth chattered and his breath shook. He rocked back and forth, hoping somehow that it would help him get warm. He wasn't up for the hour walk to his motel room, so he sat there freezing and crying and bleeding.

Moments later, there was a rustling in the bushes, then a figure appeared: Mrs. Hayfer.

Drake closed his eyes, wondering if his luck could possibly get any worse. "Please, just go," his voice cracked.

She was too busy taking in his surroundings to comprehend what he had said. There was a second blanket folded up underneath him to act as a bed and at the head of that was a pillow. She noticed plenty of fast-food sacks, but saw no food. She did, however, see several empty boxes of what looked like cough medicine. Close to those was a stack of empty beer cans and cigarette pouches. Also nearby, scattered about in different places, were empty bottles of vodka and wine. Two cans of dust-off were in sight as well.

"Are you living here?" She sounded more disgusted than surprised and she was really surprised.

"Leave!" he yelled.

However, she stepped closer, then got onto her knees in front of him, her voice expressing how flabbergasted she felt. "Drake, what happened to you?"

This made the boy cry harder. He hid his head in between his knees.

"How long has this been going on? How long have you lived like this?" She could see him shivering underneath his thin blanket. She was cold herself. She'd only been outside for a couple minutes, but already, her nose was a bright shade of pink. "Look, come back to my car. Let's talk there."

"I don't wanna talk."

"It's really toasty in there," she persuaded. "And I have seat warmers."

That convinced him. He was so cold that the gusts of wind felt like knives stabbing all over his body. He pushed himself up and followed her to her vehicle, which she'd left on the side of the road by the park.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

Drake made sure the vents faced him. He rubbed his numb hands together and exhaled hot air into them. "My motel room." He told her where it was, then she put the car in drive. "Thank you." He couldn't express how grateful he was for this ride. It was entirely possible that he could've died overnight from the below freezing temperatures if he had stayed here. "I'm really sorry," his voice quivered. "I had no idea that he was your husband."

"What are you doing at that truck stop anyway, Drake?" she said in an accusatory manner. Despite his pitiful appearance and lifestyle, she was still incredibly pissed.

Drake kept his eyes low. "I'm just doing what I have to do to survive," he said quietly.

"My husband was right?" Mrs. Hayfer asked. "You're a junkie prostitute?"

His silence was enough of an answer.

"Jesus, Drake. How could you let that happen?"

"It just did, okay?"

"Is this about your dad?"

Drake looked at her with a death glare.

She took note of this. "I read an article. The teachers were passing it around." She saw that this made the boy even more upset and quickly moved on. "I'm just saying. You went through such a tragic and traumatic event-"

"I was using before I killed my dad." His words were so harsh that he even surprised himself. Hearing them out loud made him sick to his stomach and flooded his brain with awful memories. He hung his head again, wrapping his arms around himself and slipping his hands underneath his armpits for warmth.

"This isn't normal, Drake. Sleeping around for money is not normal and it's certainly not okay."

"Why do you care? You didn't think I'd amount to anything anyway. Is this really all that shocking to you?"

"You weren't my favorite student. You weren't a student that I liked. You weren't even a good student. But I never once saw you as worthless," she said. "What happened to you? You were such a happy and passionate kid. Why did you do this to yourself?"

"Pull over. I want out." He was already one big ball of humiliation, so to sit here and listen to her shit on him started to bring back those familiar suicidal desires. "Pull over!"

"Drake-"

"Pull the fucking car over! Now!"

"Calm down!"

"Let me out!"

She wasn't making any moves to do what he demanded. He couldn't do what he had done that landed his mom in the hospital and rendered her legs immobile, but he knew another way to get what he wanted. Drake lifted his legs up and started kicking her dashboard.

"Let me out of the fucking car!"

Mrs. Hayfer's eyes widened as he kicked and threatened to break her window. She couldn't believe the sight before her. This young man had sat in her class years ago and, despite his behavioral issues, lack of participation and constant interruptions, she never once ever suspected that there had been a much bigger problem going on at home. He had always been the type of kid who had hundreds of friends, who went after his dreams, who seemed genuinely happy. She could remember when her friend, another math teacher, came to her and pulled up the article on her computer. She had felt absolutely sick reading it even though she hated that boy. If only she could've seen the warning signs, then maybe this mess sitting next to her could've been prevented. She couldn't imagine it: name-calling, mental abuse, beatings, rape, attempted murder — all by your own father, someone whose only job was to protect you and build you up. No wonder calling his father had always straightened the young man out. How many times was he hit, was he touched, was he made to feel worthless because of a call she had made to him to inform him of something so trivial as missing homework or the kid being two minutes late to class? Drake had spent a majority of his late childhood hiding behind a mask. There was no telling how lonely he had felt, especially when no one knew who he really was or how he really felt because he couldn't tell anyone what was happening to him behind closed doors.

Mrs. Hayfer looked at the screaming boy who was trying to destroy the inside of her car. This is what it looked like. This is what failure looked like. Not Drake's failure. His mom had failed by not noticing what was going on. His father had failed by being the worst person imaginable. His siblings had failed by missing his cries for help. His friends had failed by making him feel like he couldn't open up to them. His teachers had failed by missing all the warning signs. Mrs Hayfer had personally failed by avoiding the truth despite the fact that it had been sitting right in front of her (literally, Drake had been a problem child, so she'd moved his desk right in front of hers) every single day. She had seen bruises. She had seen the way he would squirm in his chair, sometimes unable to fully sit down. She would see the occasional winces. It just never clicked. She thought that maybe another student was roughing him up a bit, and let's face it, she had thought that he had kind of deserved it. On Fridays, he was quiet. Unlike the rest of the students who were excited about the weekend, he dreaded his inevitable stay with his father. His legs would bounce up and down so fervently that even Mrs. Hayfer's large, metal desk would shake, and then she'd proceed to yell at him. He'd stop for a while, then start clicking his pen. After getting onto him for that, he would restlessly move around in his desk and brush his hands through his hair. The constant movement happening in her peripheral vision was irritating, so he'd get in trouble again. Still anxious, the leg bouncing would soon start up again. One day had even landed him in detention because she'd been in a bad mood and had to remind him to stop bouncing his legs three times. She wondered if his father had hit him because of her negligence. He had to of. He definitely did. Why else would Drake despise her as much as he did? He was always filled with dread when he walked into her classroom because he associated her with the negative connotations of a brutal beating.

"Jesus, Drake, calm the fuck down!"

Hearing her cuss made him feel off. It was like that feeling when you are at school late at night or when you see a teacher at the grocery store. It was abnormal.

"If you wanna sit in silence, that's just fine and dandy with me, but you're not gonna sit there and destroy my fucking car!" She actually reached over and shoved his legs into the floor whilst driving. "I'm just trying to help you get out of the cold! You're really trying to do this after I caught you back there fucking my husband?! That's so disrespectful!" she huffed, then put her hands back on the wheel.

Drake stopped throwing his tantrum because of both his shock and his guilt. It just occurred to him that she had walked in on her husband cheating on her with him, yet she was still here, offering some kind of help. They'd never had the best of relationships, so for the first time, he saw her as an actual human being with real emotions and basic compassion. And did he mention that she just caught him with her husband?

Drake straightened in his seat obediently. In a calm and collected manner, he spoke. "It wasn't what it looked like back there."

"He wasn't offering you money to do sexual favors for him?"

"I mean...well..." He sighed. "It wasn't like that, though. We didn't...do anything. He wouldn't even touch me. I kept pushing him to, but he refused. He wouldn't let me do anything to him either." This was all true, but he wasn't sure if he was helping or not. "He literally just sat there while I jerked off. It's basically like watching porn, really. Everyone watches porn, even married people."

Not only was she in distress about his infidelity. There were numerous other things at play. How long has this kind of thing been going on? How many times had Garrett cheated? Why Drake? Was he into men? Was it just a curiosity? Was he secretly gay? Was their entire marriage a sham because her husband was hiding in the closet?

She didn't feel comfortable laying out all of these fears in front of her former student, so she stuck with, "How many times have you two done this?"

"Just this once."

"Bullshit."

"No, really. I swear." When she glanced at him, he met her eyes to hopefully show that he was being honest. "I swear."

"How much did he pay you?"

"Twenty-five," the boy answered.

This shocked his former teacher. "That's all you charge?!"

Drake shrugged and turned his head towards the windshield again. "Sometimes. It just depends on the person — how interested they are, how desperate I am, what they want me to do." He felt gross just hearing those words come out of his mouth. "I'm not proud of it," he whispered. "But I have no choice."

"What about quitting drugs?"

"It's not that easy."

"Where are your parents? Why don't you ask them for help?"

"I...I messed up pretty bad. People got hurt. I had to leave. They don't care about me anymore anyway."

"Don't say that."

"It's true." The hurt of abandonment was coming back and it was hitting him hard. He felt a lump in his throat and his eyes watered over. "It's true," he repeated, his voice cracking this time. "I tried to go back. They're gone. They've moved and they left me behind." He wiped away the tear that managed to sneak past and sniffled. "I mean, I can't really blame them. I really fucked up, and not just once. I know I deserved it." His voice had gone up a couple octaves and the tears were pouring freely now. One dangled from the edge of his nostril and he wiped it away and sniffled again. "It just sucks, you know?"

 _What Drake had done must've been really bad for his loving family to have kicked out their own son, who had been a victim of perverse sexual assault and violent physical abuse_ , Mrs. Hayfer thought.

"I can't believe they would just leave like that," he said.

He hadn't thought much about this subject matter since he found out about it a month and a half ago. He'd cried when he first found out, but then he'd gotten high and he's done that everyday since to keep his racing thoughts at bay. Now here he was, breaking down in front of his high school nemesis. This could only mean one thing: he was long overdue for a fix.

"I've seen your sister in the hallways at school. Wherever your parents went, they didn't move far. They're still in this school district." Despite her anger towards him, she said, "I can find out their address if you want. If you promise not to tell anyone where you got it. It'll be in her file in the office."

"Don't bother," he said. "I can't go back — not like this. Things have just gotten so bad and they shouldn't have to put up with my bullshit." He added, "Besides, they clearly don't ever wanna see me again."

"So what? You're just gonna...what?" She shrugged. "Keep selling your body? Keep using drugs? Keep sleeping in parks and motel rooms?" She seemed genuinely concerned and irritated as if she actually cared for him and was hurt by his stupid decisions. "Until you starve to death, or freeze, or overdose, or get mugged and possibly killed? What kind of life is that, Drake?"

His vulnerability showed when he admitted, "I don't know what else to do."

"You clean up. You stop all this bullshit and you get help. Isn't there anyone who wants to see you get better again? What about that one friend? What was his name? Mr. Santos?"

"Julio."

"Julio. Right. You two used to be best friends. What happened to him?"

"I was living with him and his older brother. Ricky helped me get clean and I was mostly sober for almost three years, and then I blew it. I'm too ashamed to go back there. I don't want to put them through what I put my family through and lose them, too."

"I mean, but you've already lost them anyway by running away."

"But it's different."

"How? They're still hurt. It's not like it's less painful because they don't see it happening. In fact, I think they would prefer for you to go back there and mess up a hundred times than to avoid the whole thing completely out of fear. I think they just wanna see you try."

Shit, she was actually making sense. Is this the kind of wisdom he had missed out on when he ignored her classroom lectures?

"I'm just so embarrassed."

"Would you rather be embarrassed in front of the ones who love you or would you rather die alone, cold and hungry? I mean, I don't know if you noticed, but those men back there at the truck stop were mocking you. Wouldn't it be more embarrassing to go back there and beg for money and perform fellacio on the same guys who taunted you? Who's to say that they'll even want your services after what went down? If that happened, how would you pay for a motel room? Do you really wanna live on the streets for the rest of your life, especially right now in this cold?"

She was making a lot of good points, which added to the stress that he was feeling. He was so anxious that his hands were shaking. Mistaking this for chills, Mrs. Hayfer turned up the heater some more.

"Just tell me where Julio lives. I can drive you there."

"I can't go back."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't! And I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

Luckily, they were pulling into the parking lot of the motel. He told her to go around to the back and park because it was closer to his room.

"I brought your clothes," Mrs. Hayfer said. "They're in the trunk."

That made Drake feel better. All of his money had been in the pocket of those jeans that he had left behind.

The two got out of the car. Mrs. Hayfer went around to the back and unlocked the trunk, then picked up a garbage bag full of his belongings.

"So which room is yours?" she asked.

Drake could tell what she was really trying to say. His brows furrowed. "You're not coming in with me." First off, he was too embarrassed to let her see the shit hole that he lived in. On top of that, he didn't think he could handle another minute of her trying to push him to go back home.

"I am if you want these clothes back."

"Just give them to me!" He reached for them, but she tossed the bag back into the trunk and closed it. This pissed him off. "You know what? Fuck you. You can keep them." There were several low-blow jokes he could've said about her keeping his clothes or the money her husband had given him for sex, but she'd given him a ride and he wasn't that much of a jerk.

He stormed off across the parking lot, then climbed the stairs to the second floor. He had been renting a room here for close to two weeks now. It was larger than the other motel, but it was just as shitty and was crawling with roaches, mice, junkies and prostitutes. He made it to his room — 219 — and reached into his pockets. That's when he realized he was wearing his sweatpants.

"Shit!" His keys were in his other pants!

He turned around and looked over the banister. Mrs. Hayfer waved up at him smugly. She held his room key in her hand.

"Goddamnit!" he whispered to himself. "Fucking bitch." _Fine. Two can play at that game._ He made his way back downstairs, but instead of going to the woman's car, he went over to the office.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, um, I accidentally lost my room key and I left the spare in the room. Could you possibly open the door for me?"

"Of course, sir." He put up a sign that said " _Be right back_ " before walking around the counter with a key ring jingling at his side. He followed the boy out the glass door. "Which room?"

"219."

The made their way up the staircase, all the while, the receptionist was making casual conversation.

"It's so chilly out here, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sorry for the trouble."

"Oh, it's not trouble at all." He was way too nice for his own good. "Do you know where you left the key?"

"I think so."

"If you ask for a spare or don't return both keys when you check out, you'll be charged."

It was worth it to avoid Mrs. Hayfer. Speaking of Mrs Hayfer... Just as they made it to the top of the staircase, Drake saw her standing in front of his room.

"Hey, I found your key," she said. "You left it in my car."

"Well, would you look at that? Today's your lucky day," the receptionist said.

"No, I-"

Mrs. Hayfer spoke up. "Sorry for the inconvenience, sir." She waved.

"It's not problem. Have a good night." He made his way back downstairs.

Drake was fuming as he approached the woman. He snatched his key from her, unlocked his door and stepped inside. He tried to close it behind him, but the woman stopped it with her foot. "Move," he said.

She shook her head.

"You're not coming in."

"We had a deal. Remember?"

"Keep the fucking clothes."

"What am I gonna do with them?"

Drake shrugged incredulously. "I don't give a fuck. Give them to your husband so he can have something to remember me by and jerk off on for all I care." He was no longer above pissed her off because he was angry.

"Hey, Drake!" It was a young man who had just walked out of the room at the end of the floor.

"Shit!" To Mrs. Hayfer, he whispered. "Leave."

"Let me in."

"Just go!" He tried unsuccessfully to shut the door.

"I'm not leaving."

"For fuck's sake, go!"

"I'm not done talking to you."

"Please!"

"Yo, Drake!"

The young man closed his eyes and sighed as the boy his age approached. His name was Devante.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" he said, then he looked at Mrs. Hayfer up and down. "Damn, Drake, you've never brought a woman back before, and a fine one at that. I'm not usually into cougars, but I'd make an exception for you." After another moment of staring at her breasts and ass, he pushed open the door for her. "Why don't you wait inside for him, doll? We'll be just a second."

Drake was outraged, but he didn't put up a fight, making Mrs. Hayfer wonder if her former student was scared of him. She stepped inside and the door was closed behind her. She flipped on the light, then instantly regretted it when she looked around the disgusting room. Her nose turned up. She moved over to the small table with two chairs and set the bag of clothes and her purse down. She almost screamed when she looked down and saw a roach devouring a French fry at her feet. This freaked her out enough to want to leave, but she came here for a reason. She peeled back the curtain wearily, praying that a bug wouldn't fall off and into her hair. She hoped that their conversation wouldn't take long. As she peeked through the window, she saw the stranger threateningly holding Drake over the banister as if he was going to drop him. She quickly snatched the door open.

"-just chill, Dev, okay? I'm working on it-"

"Drake?" the woman interrupted.

"Tell your bitch to go back inside," Dev quietly commanded.

Drake looked at her, and despite the fear in his eyes, he said, "It's okay. Just go inside. I'll be in in a minute."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Just go inside or you're gonna make it worse."

Mrs. Hayfer had never been in a situation such as this one and she had no idea what was going on. Apparently, Drake had pissed this boy off somehow. If she went back inside, she didn't know what would happen, but if she stayed? Drake said that that would "make it worse." Whatever was owed to him, if he didn't get it now, he was going to get it later with ten times the fury.

The woman debated this for a while until ultimately coming to realize that this was Drake's life. He'd asked her to stay inside and she didn't want to be the reason that something bad happened to him, so she did as she was told and stayed out of it.

However, a couple minutes later, she heard a loud bang, then a yelp. She ran over to the window and saw that Drake had been shoved against the door. Next, he was punched, then punched again until he lost his footing. Mrs. Hayfer's eyes widened. She was horrified.

Again, she opened the door. "Hey!"

"Go back inside!" Drake managed to yell before he was punched in the mouth, the brass knuckles that Dev was wearing busting open his lip.

Once again, she disappeared inside the motel room.

"Ahh!" he screamed when he was punched again. His nose and mouth were gushing with blood.

Dev then started kicking him, his shoes swiftly connecting with the skin.

"Gaaahhh!" Drake screeched. He clutched his side with his hand, then pulled it away and looked at it to see that his fingertips had a little bit of blood on them. His eyes then moved to Dev's shoe.

One was just a regular black boot. The other — the one he had kicked him with — however, had been rigged with a steel toe and three thumbtacks sticking out. Not only was the force of the blow giving him pain, but now there were sharp, pointy object poking into his skin. Dev wound his foot back again.

"Don't. Don't! Gaaahhh!" Two more kicks had him in tears.

Dev kicked his back as he flipped over, then his other side when he started pulling himself across the concrete. Drake gripped the banister, then used all of his strength to lift himself up to his feet. He didn't have time to steady himself before his attacker grabbed a fistful of hair, then violently shoved his head against the railing twice. Drake fell to his knees, his thoughts just as jumbled up and blurry as his vision. He was kicked again, which knocked him onto his stomach.

"Dev, please! I'll get your money! I know I only have half, but I'll get the rest!"

The boy yanked the back of Drake's shirt collar, pulling him up and then tossing him into his back. Again, he went at his helpless victim with his brass knuckles. Drake reached up, desperately trying to grab at the banister as if that would do any good. He managed to grip one of the bars and pull as hard as he could, slowly dragging his aching body a couple inches across the concrete. Dev sat on his chest after this so that he couldn't move. Desperate for freedom, Drake clenched his fists and hit back. His attacker punched with so much force that he fell forwards and had to situate himself before hitting him again.

"Dev..." Drake sputtered, his face covered in blood and tears. "Please..."

Sweating and tired, Dev staggered to his feet, yanking the boy up with him. He shoved him up against his window. Drake was halfway unconscious, so when his head drooped, Dev grabbed his chin and shoved his head against the glass.

"Where's my money, Drake?"

The young man let go of a sob. "Please."

"Tell me where my money is before I kick you in the fucking nuts with my right shoe!" This was the shoe that had the spikes.

"I'll get it, I swear to God. Ahh!" He was shoved towards the banisters again. He grabbed them and tried to hold himself up, but Dev slammed his foot down on the back of his spine.

Dev lifted his foot and was about to curb stomp Drake's face against the bottom rail of the banister when the door whipped open.

"Wait!" Mrs. Hayfer screamed.

She had seen those kinds of things done in movies. If Drake wasn't lucky enough to die instantly by having his skull bashed in, then he'd have to deal with the pain of his teeth being forced out and his jaw snapping in half. Despite her hatred towards the boy, she couldn't let this go on any longer. It was a miracle that she even came out here in time. She hadn't been able to watch the fight through the window, but the sound of the punches and Drake's screeches alone convinced her that she had to do something.

Drake turned his body towards her and reached out with his blood-covered and shaking hand. "Help," he begged. He coughed. His mouth was bleeding so much that he was practically choking on the blood.

"Shut the fuck up!" Dev kicked his cheek with his right boot.

Drake screamed as the thumbtacks poked into his skin. Mrs. Hayfer looked on in fear when she saw Dev's rigged shoe.

"Go back inside, lady. Better yet, why don't you get the fuck out of here, you skank? Clearly, he's not gonna fuck you tonight." He grabbed Drake's hair, dragging him into the boy's motel room and pushing Mrs. Hayfer out of the way in the process.

"Help!" the woman yelled. "Help!"

Dev laughed at this notion. "No one's gonna come, sweetheart. Everyone minds their fucking business around here. They don't dare fuck with me. Apparently, Drake didn't get the memo." Kick.

"Gaaahhh!"

Mrs. Hayfer's heart broke when she saw her former student's face contort with pain. She grabbed Dev's arm. "Leave him alone!"

The tweaked out, self-proclaimed gangster responded by pulling out a Glock and turning to her. She went silent, suddenly fearing for her own life.

"You stay the fuck out of my way. You understand? Or I will blow your fucking brains out like Drake's." He turned back to the boy he'd mentioned and saw that Drake was backing away with his elbows and heels.

"Dev, come on, man. Please." He lifted his arms up to protect himself when the enraged addict made a grab for him. "Please!"

Dev had a tight grip on the boy's hair so that Drake couldn't move away when he pressed the gun against his cheek. The terrified victim's nostrils flared as he stared at the weapon, his breathing rapid and loud.

"Dev, please, don't. Please, I'm begging you." Drake flinched when the gun was cocked. He couldn't stop trembling. "Oh, shit," he whispered. "Oh, shit."

Despite her fear, the woman couldn't let someone she still viewed as a child die. Again, she grabbed the attacker's arms. Dev whipped around and hit her with the gun, causing her to fall over. On her way down, her head crashed against the dresser. This knocked her out cold.

* * *

"Stop! Stop! Stopppggggll!"

Mrs. Hayfer squeezed her already closed eyes shut tighter. She groaned as she reached up and clutched her pounding head, then hissed at the pain of her touch.

"PLEASE! PLEA-"

She opened her eyes and immediately remembered where she was and what was happening. The fear returned to her.

"GAAAOOOWW!"

She blinked, then quickly pushed herself onto her feet and made her way into the bathroom. The sight before her was horrendous. Dev had Drake pinned over the edge of the tub. With one hand, he held the victim's head underwater. With the other, he punched his side or his spine or his head. At some point, Dev had pulled the boy's pants and boxers down and shoved the stick end of the toilet plunger up his rear. He occasionally pushed it in further, causing the boy to tighten his muscles and squirm. All the while, he yelled taunts about his whorish lifestyle and his missing money although Drake probably couldn't hear them well from underneath the water. Within seconds, Dev pulled his head out by his hair.

Cough. "Take it-" Cough. "Take it out! Ple-"

Dev shoved him in again. To continue torturing him, he pushed the plunger in further. Mrs. Hayfer watched Drake's toes curl and his hands clench into fists as he scraped at the wall, desperately trying to grab hold of something. There had to be at least eight or ten inches inside of him, right?

"Let him go," Mrs. Hayfer demanded.

"You again?" He seemed annoyed and it showed in how hard he punched Drake's badly bruised ribs. "You stay the fuck back. You hear me?" He pulled out his gun and pointed it at her once again.

What she didn't know was that the reason Drake was still alive was because, in Dev's drugged out state, apparently he'd forgotten to reload it before leaving his motel room.

"Why are you doing this?!"

"Get back!" he threatened. He was so focused on her that he didn't realize his other hand raised just enough for Drake to get some air.

The helpless boy coughed, his entire body jerking as he did so. "Dev, please," he whined pathetically.

His attacker took the barrel of the gun and hit the back of Drake's head. The young man yelped and tried to protect himself from the blows that followed. He was crying when he was shoved underneath the water again.

"You believe this faggot motherfucker tried to offer me head so that I wouldn't kill him?" he said to Mrs. Hayfer. As if the notion had pissed him off and made him feel as though his masculinity had been questioned, he put his gun back in his waistband, gripped the plunger, pulled it out a couple inches, then rammed it back in harder and further. He did this again. Then again.

Mrs. Hayfer could tell that Drake was in pain because of it. His screams were muffled under the water, but she heard them and she could see the frantic bubbles rising to the surface. Her former student's entire body tensed up and his shaky hand reached for Dev pleadingly. The fact that he was wrinkling and stretching his attacker's designer shirt pissed Dev off, so he gave the boy a hard slug on his spine, then continued his work with the plunger.

"Just leave him be!" Mrs. Hayfer begged. "Haven't you done enough?!"

"Not until I get what's owed to me." He yelled now so that maybe Drake could hear. "EITHER HE GIVES ME MY FORTY FUCKING DOLLARS OR THIS COCK-SUCKER PAYS WITH HIS LIFE!" Another violent thrust of the stick, then he pulled his head out of the water. "YOU HEAR ME, YOU GODDAMN SLUT?!"

Drake was choking, and despite knowing that he needed to beg him or offer him something, he couldn't speak through his coughs. He saw the water getting closer, and he could feel his head being forced downward again. He pitifully let go of a whimper before he went right back to drowning.

Mrs. Hayfer blinked. She had been so shocked that she hadn't been able to keep her jaw from dropping, but it wasn't until now that she could actually speak. "Forty dollars?!" she said incredulously. "You're trying to kill him over forty fucking dollars?! Jesus, I've got forty dollars in my purse!" She concluded that the young man was either on drugs or desperate to get that way.

"You're gonna pay this bitch's debt for him?" Dev looked at her, but he didn't let go of Drake, who was banging his fists against the wall, desperate for air.

Mrs. Hayfer went back into the room. She made her way over to the purse, which was on the table, and she pulled out two twenty dollar bills. She brought them back to Dev, who seemed to think about this at first. However, whatever drug he was craving was more important than teaching Drake a lesson, so he yanked the boy out by his hair-

"HUUUUH!"

-and tossed him on the hard linoleum.

"HUUUUUH!" Drake gasped, then he erupted into a coughing fit.

Dev grabbed the money, counted it, then slipped it into his pocket. He went back over to Drake, who, for the first time, noticed that his former teacher was in the room. "You're lucky this lady was here to save your pathetic life. You better make her squirt after the money she spent on you." He gave him one last kick, this one to the head. Luckily, it wasn't with the spike shoe again. After this, he was gone.

"Jesus, are you okay?!" Mrs. Hayfer got on her knees in front of him, then brushed away the hair that was plastered to his face.

"Please, just go," he begged with shame. He was shaking and sobbing.

Instead, she gripped the plunger, then started pulling it.

"Ahh!"

She slowed down and allowed Drake to tightly grip her free hand until the end came out. It was covered in blood and fecal matter. She tossed it to the side, then looked around until she found a towel. She dried off his face, then she helped him pull up his boxers. He rolled onto his back, then planted the bottom of his feet on the ground so that he could lift his ass up and finish pulling up his underwear and sweatpants. He let go of a cry as he did this.

"Are you okay?"

Drake's face contorted as he continued to weep. He shook his head no.

Mrs. Hayfer didn't know what to do, but she hated seeing him like this. She pulled his head into her lap and hugged him. "It's okay," she whispered. "It's over now."

* * *

One good thing had come from this. After hitting his fourth or fifth or tenth rock bottom, Drake had told her that he was ready to get clean. She had helped him to his feet, then practically dragged him out of the room and down the stairs. He had the hardest time walking. She wasn't sure whether it was because of his severely bruised torso or the fact that he'd been brutally penetrated, but she didn't ask. Once they made it downstairs, he hadn't been able to go any further. She pulled up her car so that he didn't have to cross the small parking lot, then she got out and helped him into the backseat so that he could lay down because it was currently impossible for him to sit. Their drive to Ricardo's was silent other than the GPS's voice telling her which way to turn. Once they got there, Mrs. Hayfer noticed that the man was already outside. He'd probably just gotten home from work since it was somewhere around midnight. He looked on questioningly as the strange car pulled into the driveway behind him, the headlights blinding him.

Mrs. Hayfer left the car cranked to keep a sleeping Drake warm. She opened the door and got out, noticing that Ricardo had lowered his guard after seeing her. "My name is Alice Hayfer. I teach at Belleview High."

"Hi." Still unsure of why she was here so late, he moved towards her with obvious confusion. He saw blood trailing down one of her temples and a bruise on the other. "Are you okay? Do you need some help?"

"I've got Drake here. He said he's ready to get clean and he asked me to bring him here. He's hurt pretty badly."

Ricardo hurried around to the back door, then opened it. "Jesus, Drake!"

This woke him. One eye was swollen shut, but he was just barely able to crack the other one open to see his friend. "Hey," he croaked, then he started coughing again. He visibly winced at the pain this caused him.

"Oh my God! What happened?!"

"Can I come home? Please?"

"Of course."

Ricardo helped him out of the car, and the pain brought tears to Drake's eyes again. He couldn't walk at all now that the pain had settled, so Ricky handed his keys to Mrs. Hayfer and picked his friend up. The woman turned off her car, then she unlocked the front door and pushed it open so that they could get inside. They all went into the living room. Ricardo carefully placed Drake on the couch, then examined his wounds.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"I'm so sorry," was all that the boy said. He was crying again.

Alice spoke up. "Some guy beat him up and inserted something up his rear, then he tried to drown him because he owed him money."

"Jesus!" Ricardo was heartbroken. He looked at Drake, who averted his barely open eye shamefully.

"He had thumbtacks in the toes of his boots or something. It was brutal. Drake, show him your side." She moved over to the two, then pulled up the boy's shirt.

Drake yelped at this. The cloth had been stuck in some of the dried scabs and pulling it away reopened some. The bruises all over his torso were also visible. They were dark red and black and it filled up every inch of his skin.

"Shit," was all Ricardo could say. "How did you find him?"

"I went to the truck stop to surprise my husband with dinner. I found them together in his tractor."

"I'm so sorry," Drake said again, but this time to her.

Ricardo looked at him with disappointment and hurt as she continued with the story.

"My husband got angry, slapped him around a bit, then kicked him out. I followed him to some park. He had a whole set-up there. I got him to sit in my car and he asked me to take him to his motel room. That's when the guy showed up — one of his neighbors. He almost killed him."

"Do you think you need to go to the hospital?" Ricardo asked.

Drake tiredly shook his head.

"You sure?" He looked at Mrs. Hayfer for confirmation, but the woman only shrugged. "I could call an ambulance out here and have them check on you."

"I'm fine," Drake said.

"He's just as stubborn as he was when he was one of my students," Alice said.

"That's Drake for you," said Ricardo, then he stood. "I'm gonna clean him up a bit. I don't think it's a good idea for him to go to sleep right now in case he has a concussion, and the water should keep him awake. I can show you where the bathroom is if you want to clean up." He nodded towards her bloody temple.

"No, I'm gonna go back and finish talking to my husband. Thank you, though."

Ricardo showed her out, then grabbed the supplies he needed from the bathroom. Drake was asleep by the time he got back to the living room, but the boy awoke when the man dabbed at his face with a wet washcloth.

"I'm really sorry," Drake whispered.

"Don't be sorry."

"I should've come to you."

"You did. You told me how you were feeling before we went to work. I should've known that a couple words of encouragement wouldn't cure that."

"I don't want you to blame yourself. I knew what I was doing when I decided to use. I knew I could've let you talk me out of it, but I didn't want you to this time. It was my choice."

"I just feel like I should've seen it coming."

"You couldn't have. I told you that everything was fine, and you had no reason not to believe me because we have this whole honesty thing," Drake said. "I'm really sorry I broke your trust. I hate that I lied to you."

His dishonesty seemed to actually hurt himself more than Ricardo. Truthfulness was his number one value. Deception was the worst thing for a relationship of any kind. If you lie about who you are, what you're doing, how you're feeling, etcetera, how can anyone really get to know who you are, and if no one knows who you are, then what's the point?

Drake winced when Ricardo wiped away the blood on his lip.

"Are you sure you don't wanna go to the hospital? What if there's internal bleeding or something?"

"I'm fine. I just got a little banged up."

"A little?"

"This kinda thing used to happen everyday, remember? My body's used to it." He groaned as his friend gently slid up the side of his shirt for a better look.

Every bit of the exposed part of his torso was dark red and black, almost resembling the outer space tattoo on his forearm. There were cuts and scrapes and miniature puncture holes that were only visible because of the tiny puddle of blood or the red smear or the dried scab on top of them. Ricardo could tell that he was in pain because of his offbeat breathing pattern. He wouldn't inhale much because the constant lift of his chest and stomach was excruciating.

"I thought you learned your lesson about borrowing money from guys like that after Marcellas."

"I was forty dollars short on my rent. I was gonna be kicked out of my motel room. I was really desperate."

"You stayed in a motel the whole time?"

"Not the whole time. A lot of it, though. I was making decent money. I blew a lot of it on all the wrong things that week, though, and he helped me out. I stayed so fucked up for a while after that I honestly forgot about owing him. He caught me on my way out the door and threatened me, so that's what I was trying to do at the truck stop, but then Mrs. Hayfer caught us, and I forgot all about it again." Another wince. "I got twenty-five from her husband, but Dev didn't care because I was fifteen short. Apparently, that was enough to kill me over. Mrs. Hayfer was there. I wouldn't let her come in at first and I tried to make her leave because I was so humiliated. That's when Dev showed up. He hit her with his gun and she fell against the dresser and busted her head open. I thought she was dead. There was so much blood. I feel so bad that she got tangled up in all this, especially after she caught me with her husband, but honestly, I'm so glad that she was there because he would've killed me." His eyes watered over at the pain of Ricardo cleaning up his busted and swollen lip. "I've always wanted to die, and I mean, I still do, but I didn't wanna die like that. I didn't want my body to be found that way — with a fucking plunger up my ass." Now it was unclear if his tears were caused by his physical pain or the mental anguish brought on by his memories. "I'm so fucking humiliated." And then the waterworks really started.

Ricardo frowned as he sobbed. He gently laid his arm across the boy and pulled Drake's head against his chest. This was the closest he could get to a hug without hurting him. "I know," he whispered.

He looked over to the left when movement caught his eyes. His brother was standing there, rubbing his tired eyes. When he noticed Drake, he was happy, but then his smile soon faded. Julio stepped closer, his mouth open in shock. He couldn't see how badly injured his best friend's face was since his head was buried in the stomach of Ricardo's shirt as the man petted his hair. However, by the looks of the rest of him, he had a good guess. He made his way around the coffee table and got on his knees in front of Drake and next to Ricardo, his face still showing his shock as he examined the battered and bruised body in front of him. Ricardo looked his way just as Julio noticed the blood on the crotch and thighs of Drake's light gray sweatpants, which indicated some sort of aggressive sexual assault. He met his brother's eyes pleadingly, as if begging for it not to be true. However, the man's attention was pulled away when Drake yelped at the pain caused by his body-shaking sobs.

After a moment's thought, Ricardo said, "I'm taking you to the hospital."

Drake tried to protest, but he couldn't get any words out through his crying.

"I'll grab you some clothes." He looked at his brother. "Keep an eye on him. I'll be right back."

Drake hadn't noticed that Julio had come in. He saw him after Ricardo stood and left the room. Although he should have expected it, Julio's jaw dropped open again when he saw Drake's swollen, bruised and bleeding face. Just by looking at him, he could immediately tell that his snotty nose was broken. At least, it looked that way anyway. His puffy face was pretty disfigured and misshapen, so he could be wrong actually.

"How could you do this?" Julio asked, feeling resentment towards his best friend for allowing this to happen.

Drake looked at him through the slit in the one eye that he could open. "I'm really sorry." He whispered it so that it wouldn't hurt as much. As he opened his mouth and said those words, a dribble of blood left his lips and reached all the way down to the couch.

"You're sorry?" the boy said incredulously, but in the quiet kind of way. His voice got louder afterwards. "You just ran off in the middle of the night, leaving me and Ricardo to worry about you for weeks?! No texts, no calls, no messages! I thought you were dead!"

Drake's nostrils flared in and out and his bottom lip quivered. He couldn't even see because of the water glazing over his one semi-open eye. His Adam's apple moved around in his throat as he attempted to swallow down the lump he felt. He opened his mouth to speak, but all he could do was choke out, "I'm sorry."

"Is that all you can say?!" Although he was trying to yell, his words faded a bit as if he was losing his voice. His throat was dry, possibly because of the sudden fear he'd felt when he'd seen his best friend looking like he did. Like Drake, he was shaking. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?!" It came out in an out-of-breath fashion. "Every night, I sat up wondering if you were okay — wondering what I could've done to stop you from leaving!"

"You couldn't've-"

"I would just be laying in bed obsessing over what I did — questioning everything. Like, maybe I set off a domino effect. I started thinking maybe I should've let you win that round of MarioKart. Maybe I bragged about my win too much and made you feel low self-esteem. Maybe when you texted me while I was studying with some classmates, I shouldn't have ignored you. Maybe that made you feel worthless. Maybe when I got home, I should've said something to you instead of walking right by you and going to my room. Maybe I made you feel like you weren't important."

Drake was shaking his head as tears flooded his face. "No-"

"It's like I'm always walking on egg shells with you! I always have to be mindful of you in everything I do! Can I watch this movie?! Can I listen to this song?! Can I make this joke?! Can I go to this store, to this restaurant, to this concert, with this friend?! Can I..." He started taking deep, quick breaths. He suddenly noticed that it was hard to breathe and, pretty soon, he felt like he was hyperventilating. He clutched his chest.

"Julio?"

The young man backed up until he ran into a wall. He slid onto his bottom, his eyes wide with panic as if the walls were closing in on him. "I can't breathe!"

"Ricky!" Drake gritted his teeth as he rolled into the floor. "Gaahh!" he groaned through clenched teeth when he hit the hard surface. He couldn't walk, so he dragged himself along as quickly as possible, ignoring the pain. "Are you okay?" he asked, unsure of what else to do.

"Get the fuck away!"

Drake moved back to give him room to breathe. "I'm sorry." He put his hand on his own chest. "I shouldn't have come back. I'll leave."

Julio gasped and gasped, but it never felt like enough air. He was crying now, which also didn't help.

"Ricky!" Drake called again, pushing himself onto his knees so that he could be at eye level. He winced as he did so, then yelped as he got himself situated. "It's gonna be okay," was all that he could think of to say. He could feel himself beginning to get short of breath.

Thankfully, just a short moment later, Drake heard footsteps rushing down the staircase. Ricardo had entered the room in seconds. After seeing the issue, he ran into the kitchen, grabbed a brown paper sack from one of the cabinets, then hurried back and passed it over to the boy after opening it.

"Here. It's okay. Just breathe." He sat on his knees right in front of the panicking boy. Unlike Drake, he spoke calmly in a low and slow voice. "Look at me. You're okay. I'm okay. Drake's okay. We're all home. We're all safe. Everything's okay."

Drake was sick with guilt. He wanted to cry. He _was_ crying, but he wanted to _really_ cry...and maybe throw up. All of this stress was making his stomach churn. He literally felt sick because of himself and who he was and what he had done. However, letting loose in front of Julio was only going to make things worse. He mustered all of his strength, then pushed himself onto his feet. Each step was incredibly excruciating. He managed to take two steps, then he gripped the wall where the living room became the foyer. There was no way that he could make it any further on his own. He managed to slide his feet just a few inches until he was on the exact opposite side of the wall as Julio. His nails dug into the paint as he slowly dropped onto his knees.

"In... Out... In..."

Drake covered his mouth with his hand to keep himself quiet because he felt like he had no right to cry. It was never his intention to hurt anyone. His selfishness had gotten in the way. That's why he had left. He felt so bad about causing so much stress. The last thing he'd wanted was to make Julio think that Drake's stupid fucking decisions were his fault. He regretted his relapse — despised himself for it even. How could he ever mend the friendship he had broken? Better yet, how could he ever mend the _person_ he had broken? How could he have done this? Why did he leave that night? Why couldn't he have told Ricardo the truth? Why couldn't he have been stronger? Why couldn't he have been the person they needed him to be?

"Iiiin... Oooouut... Iiiiiin."

* * *

Ricardo blinked his eyes when he felt himself waking. He lifted his head, his neck aching because of the way he had slept in the hard chair in the corner of the room. Immediately, his mind told him to check on Drake, who was wide awake in his hospital bed. The man pushed himself up, walked over to him, then sat down on the mattress after Drake moved his legs over.

"You're up," he said, then a powerful yawn left him. "Did the doctor come in?"

"No," Drake whispered, mindful that Julio was still sleeping in a recliner nearby. He turned his head to look at his best friend, who seemed much more at ease than he had the night before, but still not completely recovered.

"What happened last night?"

Drake didn't answer him. Instead, he said, "I think I'm gonna leave when I get out of here."

"What? No. Why?"

"I just think it's better...for everyone."

"Where will you go?"

"I'll just go back to doing what I was doing," he said with honesty.

"You're gonna go back out there dealing with the kind of people who did this to you?"

"I just won't borrow money. If I'm short on rent and have to sleep outside somewhere, you know, then so be it."

"And you're gonna start selling your body again for cash?"

Drake shrugged and, although it signified nonchalance, he kept his head down with shame. His voice was quiet. "It's not so bad...when you get used to it."

"What about me? You're just gonna leave again?"

"You've spent two and a half years taking care of me, and obviously it hasn't amounted to shit. Your entire life has revolved around me. You need to be able to go out and make actual friends and meet a girl and hold down a stable relationship without my baggage taking control of your life."

"And Dahlia? You're just gonna let things end like it did?"

"I'm a piece of shit. What do you want me to say?"

Ricardo now wondered how long Drake had been awake. Clearly, his depression had poisoned his brain with a bunch of horrible thoughts, once again steering him down a path towards self-destruction.

 _Knock! Knock!_ The door opened to reveal a young woman who was around Ricardo's age. She greeted the patient with a smile.

"I'm Dr. Blair. I'll be your doctor for the next twelve hours."

She went over to the whiteboard that was on the wall. Other workers had written down important information on there, such as the nurses' names, room number, and food schedules. Dr. Blair used her hand to wipe off the previous shift's doctor's name, then picked up the dry-erase marker and wrote her own.

"If you have any questions, you can ask me or any of the nurses on shift, okay?"

Ricardo spoke up. "When will they have the results of the examinations they did?"

"I'd give it about an hour or two," the woman said, to which Ricardo responded with a nod. "Once I see the results, I'll let you know and we'll talk about next steps that we need to take from there. I'll go double-check on the time for you, though." She turned and poured soap on her hand from the wall dispenser before leaving the room.

To Drake's confusion, Ricardo jogged after her and stopped her outside of his room. "Could I talk to you for a sec?"

She wore a smile on her face as she looked at him. "Of course. You're the roommate?"

"Ricardo." He nodded, suddenly noticing just how attractive she was in the hallway lighting. "Um-" He reached for the door handle and closed it. "-I know Drake's not gonna say anything, but he's been struggling with drug addiction for a while. I'm worried about what will happen when you give him pain medication."

The doctor nodded, her brows furrowed as she intently listened to Ricardo's concerns. "What kinda of drugs was he taking?"

"He's addicted to cough medicine. I'm not sure what else's he's taken. He was clean for a few years, but this past two months, he had a bad relapse. I just didn't want him to not saying anything and then end up having a bad reaction by mixing all that dextromethorphan and whatever else with whatever pain meds you give him, but also, I was wondering if it was possible to not give him anything like...addictive. Or anything that could give him a high."

"Well, I appreciate you disclosing this information. I'll have to talk to him about what drugs he has used before we give him any medications. As far as what kind we give him, ultimately, it's his choice since he is an adult. I would maybe discuss this with him because I know he's in a lot of pain, especially if his colon was penetrated. All you and I can really do is encourage him to make the right choice, but if he requests the medication, by law, I can't let him suffer through all that pain."

"I understand."

"Okay?" She smiled.

"One more thing?" he said. "When he relapsed, he was living on the streets and got involved in sex work." He said it quietly. He knew that Drake couldn't hear, but if his friend knew that he was telling all of his secrets, he would be pissed. "I was wondering if he could be tested for STD's."

"Again, we'll have to okay this with the patient. If he gives us permission, we can get that done right away for him. I would highly suggest that you sit down with Mr. Parker and express these concerns to him."

Back inside the room, Julio had just sat up. He looked exhausted and defeated. His tired eyes were dark, and his lips hung in a lazy frown as if he were dead inside. Despite having not spoken a word in hours, he hadn't been able to sleep, so he'd overheard Drake and his brother's private conversation. Now that they were alone, he felt like this would be a good time to talk to him about the previous night's events.

"Don't leave," he said quietly.

"What?" Drake hadn't expected him to say anything. He thought that the boy was still pissed with him.

"I want you to stay."

Drake thought that he was just saying this because he was a nice person and he felt guilty about what he'd said. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. You think leaving's gonna solve anything? It won't. I'm still gonna sit around wondering if you're dead or not. So just stay."

Drake sighed, then hung his head. "Julio-"

"Goddamnit, Drake! For once in your life, can you put someone else first? You leaving is just a bullshit cop-out because you're too fucking scared to fail again. Everyone messes up, Drake. Everyone hurts someone that they love unintentionally. You're not fucking special. You don't just run away and punish yourself by doing a bunch of self-destructive shit. You say you're sorry, but most importantly, you show it. You show it by cleaning the fuck up so, for once, I don't have to worry about your dumb ass. Because I fucking care. So you're not leaving. Okay?"

Drake was shocked. None of it hurt his feelings because it was all true. He _was_ being selfish. He _was_ being self-destructive. He _was_ acting like a dumbass. Sometimes you need friends like Julio to check you and put you back in line.

"Okay," Drake said softly.

Julio felt his heart stop racing as quickly with this confirmed. He let go of his nervous breath. "Okay."

Drake was quiet for a moment. Obviously apologies don't mean much when there were no actions to back it up, but that's all he could do right now. "I really am so sorry."

"I know."

"I'm gonna try to clean up again," he said.

"Good."

"I can't believe I did this again, you know? That I put myself through that. The things I was doing..." He could feel his eyes water over, so he blinked away the tears and changed the subject. "It was pretty shit not having you and Ricky around."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It got kinda lonely sometimes. The tv in my motel room was broken, but I got a ten dollar discount on the room, so that was cool. I got so bored, though. I was literally reading to pass the time."

"Bullshit. You? Reading?" He was laughing now, so Drake laughed, too.

"No, for real. There was this bookshop by the truck stop."

"Did you catch up on your _Twilight_?"

"They had _Trainspotting_ actually. It was kinda different from the movie a little, and since they have Scottish accents, the words were actually written like how the characters would say them. Like, it'd say _'ifter'_ instead of _'after'_ or _'tae'_ instead of _'to.'_ It was kinda hard to read at first. I had to figure out some of the slang. They said _'bairn'_ instead of _'baby'_ and _'ken'_ instead of _'know.'_ " And each chapter was from a different character's point of view, so you had to learn each of their accents and how they talk to know who you were reading for. Like, if they said _'fuck'_ a lot, it was Begbie. And if they called people cats and said _'likesay'_ at the end of every sentence, then it was Spud."

Julio grinned at him with both bewilderment and amazement. He was now past the hilarity about the fact that Drake had actually read a book for the first time in twenty-one years and onto the fact that the boy just casually slipped in a couple perfectly-pronounced Scottish words with nonchalance. He chuckled. "Say something Scottish again," he teased.

Drake grinned, and tossed his pillow at him, but complied with, "Fook ootay here, ya daft cunt."

Julio's eyes widened and he erupted into a fit of laughter. This is when Ricardo entered the room. He was surprised to see that both his brother and Drake were in such a giggly mood. Things had been tense ever since last night's explosions and meltdowns, but nothing could ever come in the way of Drake and Julio's friendship. No matter what, they would always forgive each other.

"The fuck is going on in here?" He was already smiling, too, as he leaned against the counter.

"I'm trying to tell Julio about this book, but he's not listening," Drake said.

Julio, still doubled up and hooting with laughter, wiped away the tear in his eye and shook his head. He spoke in a high-pitched voice. "It's so good."

"What book?"

Julio spoke up. When he answered, he mimicked a Scottish accent, though nowhere near as good as Drake's. " _Trainspottin'_ " He went right back to chortling.

Ricardo furrowed his brows with confusion and looked at Drake, hoping for a clearer answer as to what was so funny.

"I think I just threw him off when I used the accent," Drake explained.

"I've never heard you use a Scottish accent before." Julio was beginning to catch his breath. He clutched his aching stomach.

"I don't know how you haven't. I went through a whole phase after I watched _Trainspotting_ with Kenzly for the first time."

Kenzly. He missed that girl. She was basically the male version of himself. Unfortunately, after getting with Clementine, he was given an ultimatum: her or Kenzly. Despite his current actions and the fact that he had left her for a life of drugs and sex, he was madly in love with Clem. He needed her, probably way more than she needed him. He couldn't see her forgiving his pathetic ass, but he knew that he had to try to beg her to forgive him. Losing her would crush him.

"Is that that movie where the guy climbs into the toilet?" Ricardo asked. "And with the baby crawling on the ceiling?"

"The movie you made me turn on subtitles for, yeah."

"Well," he said defensively. "I'm not good at understanding accents I'm not used to hearing. English is my second language after all. Remember that. I mean, honestly, I don't even know what Dahlia is saying to me half the time. I just sit there and nod my head."

"Me, too!" Julio said.

"What the fuck, you guys?"

Ricardo said, "I mean, it's like she's speaking a completely different language sometimes. _'Are you taking the piss?'_ What the fuck does that mean?"

Julio added to this. "Bruh, and she was telling me some story about a girl in high school who was trying to sleep with her boyfriend, and she confronted her and said, _'Bugger off, ya twat, or you're gonna get a slap.'_ And then she said the girl stopped talking to her boyfriend after that and goes, _'That was me well chuffed.'_ She was telling me this whole rant while I was playing a game on my phone, so I went to Urban Dictionary just so I could get through the conversation with her."

"You guys are horrible," Drake said.

"My favorite thing is when she gets pissed at you and calls you a wanker." In a British accent, which was much better than his Scottish one, he said, "Drake, ya bloody wankeh, didja put me jumpeh in the washin'?"

"Oh my God," Ricardo said with nostalgia, his eyes pointed upwards in memory. "She got so pissed at you. I thought she was gonna break up with you for trying to wash her jacket for her."

"I didn't know she was planning on wearing it," Drake recalled.

"Well, that's just bloody brilliant, innit, ya plonker?"

"Fuck off. Clem's not a bad person."

"I think you just don't know what all those British slang words that she calls you mean."

"It's just who she is. She doesn't actually mean it. It's just light-hearted bullshit."

Ricardo said no more on the subject, but it was clear that he didn't share the same opinion as Drake. He had overheard several of their arguments and, even when they're not fighting, she puts him down a lot. She can be very subtle about these things. It's like she had mastered the art of manipulation. She knew the kinds of things that Drake responded to: what made him excited, what made him tick, what pissed him off. She knew all the right buttons to press. Despite Ricardo's warnings, Drake saw no fault in her. She always convinced him that he was to blame. The man could only hope that his friend would see Dahlia for who she really was before he got hurt.

Their conversation took on a more serious tone when Julio asked, "Did you call her at all?"

"Just once."

"How long ago?"

"It was back during the first couple of days after I left," Drake answered guiltily.

He couldn't even begin to explain just how much he regretted that moment of weakness that had led to his worst relapse in two and a half years. He didn't really need to. The others could see it on his face. He was head over heels in love with her and he was terrified that she'd want nothing to do with him after what he'd done. He wasn't sure he could handle losing another person he loved. Moving on felt impossible.

"Hey, don't stress about right now. Get out of your head." Ricardo stepped closer. He could see that Drake was starting to overthink and obsess, and that would only leave him depressed and, quite possibly, suicidal. "Let's just focus on getting out of here and, when you get better, you can try talking to her."

This didn't make him feel any better however. Instead, he had actually started crying.

"I cheated on her," he admitted with more guilt in his voice than either of the boys had ever heard from him (and they had heard his guilt-ridden confessions plenty of times before).

Ricardo sighed sympathetically and rubbed his shoulder.

Julio looked on with a somber expression. He was no longer laughing like he had been minutes before. Although he had lived with Drake for two and a half years and had known him for many years more, he didn't fully grasp the concept of addiction. He had done his fair share of Triple C's in his teenage years, so why had Drake gotten so stuck? And not just stuck — he was actually prostituting himself out for them. Julio thought back to the time when he and Drake were at a party and Rhinestone had put it on blast that Drake had given Coach Tad a blowjob just so that he could get a passing grade. He remembered his best friend crying in the car on the way home and saying, _"I don't want you to think I'm some slut who would just whore myself out for an A."_ It was crazy to think about how far he'd come — what things he was getting in return for fucking strangers. Not only had he sold his body for drugs. After a while, it had become so second-nature to him that Drake had let some sleazy, old truck driver perform anal on him for things such as food, a motel room, soda, alcohol, a measly fucking book. It was hard to understand Drake's thought process for this. Was it something like, _"I got everything I need for now. What should I spend this extra ten dollars on?"_ Or maybe it was more like, _"I wish I could watch tv! I'm so bored! Ugh! Well, I guess I could read to pass the time. Let me just go suck someone's dick first and get some money to buy a book."_ Either way, it wasn't normal to think this way. He blamed Drake's father for it. All that sexual assault had really fucked him up. If only someone had realized what was going on and put a stop to it sooner. He wondered what his best friend's life would've been like.

"She's never gonna talk to me again," Drake whined with frustration. "I know what I did was wrong, but I just wish she'd understand that I..." He knew that blaming his addiction wouldn't make it any more okay. "I'm just so sorry."

Ricardo didn't know if Dahlia would take him back or not, but he was pretty sure the girl was cheating on Drake and had been since they started dating. He didn't have any concrete evidence, but there were too many coincidences and hints he'd noticed. He'd probably be just as blind to it had his co-worker Shaniqua not brought it to his attention. Sometimes, Clementine would come into the bar with sex hair or the smell of cologne on her clothes. Shaniqua had had a roommate that was the same way as Clem, so she had picked up on what kind of person she was the first day she had met Drake's girlfriend. When she brought up her concerns, Ricardo, being the protective big brother figure that he was, kept his eyes open and started noticing things on his own. Drake, however, didn't believe them.

Telling Drake that he shouldn't stress about whether or not Dahlia took him back because she was a lying cheater herself wouldn't make Drake feel better, so instead, Ricardo said, "All you can do is tell her what happened, be totally honest with her, express how sorry you are and see where it goes from there. There's no use getting upset about it now. Right now, you need to focus on getting better. Maybe you two can start over and go slow. Relationships aren't the best things to jump back into when you're beginning your sobriety."

"Do you want us to tell her where you are and see if she'll come?" Julio offered. He didn't like Dahlia either, but he hated seeing his friend so upset.

"No, I don't want her to see me like this." He didn't want to pull a sob story and manipulate her into taking him back although the deceptive addict inside of him was telling him that that would be his best shot.

"Why don't we talk about something else?" Ricardo said as Drake wiped his eyes.

"Speak Scottish again," Julio joked to lighten the mood.

This time, it was Ricardo who threw the pillow at him, but Drake did chuckle through his tears.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I meant to update sooner. I've just been so lazy. There are some things I forgot to mention in the previous chapter's author's note. First, I don't actually know British slang well. I'm hoping the words and phrases that Clem uses make sense. Basically, I only know what I've learned from tv and Google.**

 **Also, I can't remember if I mentioned this last time, but in between working on this story, I wrote a one-shot. It's called _Dear Walter: Letters From Behind Bars_. Drake writes letters to Walter from prison, and that's basically the best way I know how to explain it. Check it out and let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, you guys. I was so excited to read a couple familiar names. Michael J. O'Malley: "I need a Ricardo in my life" is literally my exact thoughts and probably my inspiration for his character. Guest: I'm so glad you're reading and that you like the story so much. Other Guest: I was impressed that you know my writing style because I don't even know my writing style. Hopefully, it comes back in the next couple of chapters. Sleeping Owl: It's been a while!**

 **This chapter was super long. It took me FOREVER to edit. I know you guys wanted clean Drake. Just give it time. Relapse is apart of the recovery process. We'll see how it goes from here.**

 **Anyway, I love you all. Let me know what you thought of the chapter, how I could improve, what you wanna see in future chapters, how your day was, whatever. See ya in the next one!**


	3. Making Amends

_(1 week later)_

Drake climbed out of the passenger's seat with a hiss. He was still pretty sore, but thankfully, there was no internal bleeding and his colon hadn't been penetrated, meaning that he wouldn't need a colonoscopy. Drake had been relieved to hear that. Living on the streets and doing the things he had done was humiliating enough for him. He wasn't sure how he would've coped with having a giant asshole on the side of his stomach so that he could shit into a bag at the dinner table.

Ricardo made his way around to the other side of the car. "Want some help?"

"I'm okay." Drake's muscles popped out of his arms, which he used to pull himself out of the car. His torso and backside still ached a good bit, but at least he was able to walk.

When the doctor asked about pain medication, she mentioned that Ricardo had approached her with a few concerns, which Drake had responded to by rolling his eyes and giving his friend a dead stare that seemed to say, " _Really?_ " However, he understood where the worry was coming from, so he agreed to Ricky's requests and got some bullshit "pain meds" that didn't help with shit. However, he knew that he had a super addictive personality and his friend's concerns were definitely valid. He was clean (from both drugs and STD's), and he was planning on staying that way.

Julio placed a pair of sunglasses over his squinted eyes as he stepped out of the car and into the sun. He'd never been to this park before and it felt strange to know that this is where Drake had spent a lot of his time away from home.

Drake sort of staggered and limped along. After the sexual assault by plunger, it had taken a good bit of time before he had been able to sit down and even longer for him to begin walking again. Despite his incredibly sluggish walk, the Santos brothers acclimated to his pace and stayed by his side as if it was their casual walking speed. They made their way across the grass, then Drake led them deep in between some trees until they came to a small clearing. It was an absolute mess. Although they hid their feelings well, both Ricardo's and Julio's hearts dropped as they looked around the place that Drake had called home for two months. There was a tiny blanket set up as a mock bed with an equally thin blanket on top that he used to protect himself from the cold. There was also a pillow, which he most likely had stolen out of his motel room. All of these were damp and moldy, having been rained on quite a few times. The next thing they noticed was all the trash. Tons of empty Triple C boxes, cigarette packs, alcohol bottles, fast-food wrappings, two-liter sodas, water bottles and cans of computer duster were scattered about. Unlike at his motel room, nothing here was salvageable.

Drake stepped closer and waved around the trash bag he'd been carrying until it opened. He dropped onto his knees weakly with a wince, then started cleaning up. He picked up one of the empty boxes, then tossed it into the bag, throwing away that part of his life once and for all. One could hope anyway.

Ricardo squatted down next to him. "Let me get this. You and Julio can get the blankets." He didn't want the boy to get triggered by picking up all of those boxes of cough medicine.

Drake obeyed. Julio opened another bag, then helped his friend roll up the damp, squishy, stinky blankets and pillow. He held the bag open while Drake stuffed them inside. Julio's eyes wandered around, still in shock at the squalor his best friend had been living in. His gaze landed on the tree that had been next to Drake's makeshift bed. He saw a small heart carved into it, which had Drake's and Meelah's initials. No wonder this is where the boy had chosen to stay. It had been his and the first love of his life's spot. There was a sort of comfort and familiarity in that. Well, whatever it was, now it was probably tainted and it wouldn't be healthy for Drake to ever return.

Julio bounced the bag so that the rolled-up blankets would fall to the bottom. He then started helping Ricardo with the rest of the trash. As he did this, he came across a grocery sack. He opened it and saw that it was filled with hygiene and miscellaneous products such as shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, lubricant, etcetera. "Do you wanna trash this?" he asked.

"No. I'll probably take it to the truck stop bathroom and leave it there for someone else." He hadn't befriended any of the other junkies and prostitutes there, but he knew one of them would find it and be appreciative. While living on the streets, it had become a habit of his to check bags and such that he saw along the side of the road or in other places. He was shocked by some of the things people threw down.

Ricardo tied his garbage bag, and Julio did the same. They made their way back to the car and, as they walked, Ricardo wrapped his arm across Drake's shoulder to express his support.

"I'm proud of you," he said. "I know it's not easy having to start over again." He ruffled his fingers through his hair in an annoying-bigger-brother, but friendly, way.

"I don't think I would be able to do it without you guys. I really appreciate everything that both of you have done for me." Drake offered up a thankful smile. "That's what I was trying to tell Julio back in the hospital. There's this part in the book _Trainspotting_ where Renton overdoses and wakes up back home, and his parents are forcing him to quit cold turkey. And there's this line where he says, _'Protect me from those who wish tae help us.'_ And I was kinda like that. I ran away from you guys because I knew that you just wanted to help, and I guess I didn't really want help. I told myself I did, so I was looking for it in all the places I knew I wouldn't find it. I went back home — they've moved, by the way — and I asked Tad to take me to rehab. I think I thought that if I acted like I was at least trying to better my life, then I could convince myself that it wasn't my fault that I ended up the way I did. I knew that I should be around people who supported me and maybe that's why I stayed away. Like Renton, I didn't want the help, but now I would do anything just to never have to go back to living like I was." Drake said, "I know I need help. I know I can't do this alone. I know I need both of you to keep me in check. I just wanna be a better person — someone who you can depend on. I wanna be able to repay you for everything you've sacrificed for me. Without both of you, I'd probably be dead. And, you know...I love you guys." He finished with a, "And all that shit," so that it wouldn't seem so fluffy and lame.

Julio grinned teasingly. "Aw, Drakey!"

"Fuck off." But he was smiling, too. He accepted the hug that his best friend gave him and then Ricardo joined in. He couldn't describe how much encouragement and love and support he felt just by this gesture alone even though it was done in a half sarcastic manner. He truly owed his life to these boys. "I'm just really sorry," he said for the millionth time since the relapse.

After a few more moments, Julio pulled away, then continued towards the car as he straightened his sunglasses. "Alright, enough of this mushy shit. Let's go, bitches. It's cold as fuck out here and you're trying to stand around and start a circle jerk."

Ricardo fake frowned. "Oh, come on, you don't wanna join?"

"I've been told I'm very good at handies," Drake said. And just like that, the old Drake — the one who could laugh at and make jokes about his own pain — was back.

"I'm out." Julio held up a peace sign as he continued walking. "Miss me with that gay shit."

* * *

"I've gotta take a piss, too, so I'm gonna be a second," Drake said before he got out of the car.

He made his way into the dimly lit truck stop bathroom with his bag of items he no longer needed. He went into the stall, oblivious to the man at the sink whose eyes followed him. Drake set the bag down, then undid his jeans and started to relieve himself. As he did this, his mind wandered. Today was a fairly good day thus far. Despite revisiting some bad memories, he felt productive. For the first time in a while, he felt good about his life and where it was heading. The next thing on his to-do list was to finally face Clem. She still didn't know that he was back and Drake had no idea how he was going to tell her.

When Drake was finished, he secured his jeans, then flushed the toilet. He grabbed his bag and exited the stall and started washing his hands. It was then that he noticed the truck driver, who was now leaning against the wall with a mischievous smirk. This wasn't the first time that they had been in the bathroom together. Drake remembered him. He was the guy who got off on giving golden showers. Desperate for cash, Drake had agreed to it once, but the idea of using piss for sexual gratification wasn't his kink and it wasn't something he ever wanted to do again.

The man pushed himself away from the wall, still grinning. He approached Drake, getting so close to him, in fact, that the boy could feel him breathing down his neck. "You looking for some cash?" he asked. "I got ten bucks with your name on it."

Drake kept his eyes on the sink as he washed his hands. "Nah, I'm good."

"Oh, come on," he pouted, then sighed as he dug into his pocket and opened his wallet. "How about fifteen?" He held out a ten and a five.

Drake shook his head, his voice soft because he felt scared for some reason. "I'm good."

Now the truck driver was growing irritated. "Alright, I'll give you twenty, but that's as high as I'm going, and that's _only_ if you swallow."

Drake turned off the sink, then went around the man and got a paper towel. He started to make his way towards the exit, but was stopped when his wrist was grabbed.

Despite his rough grip, his voice expressed innocence. "Hey, hey, hey, where are you going, baby?"

"Let me go." This time, his fear showed in his voice.

"Why are you scared? We're just negotiating."

"I'm not interested." He pulled his arm back, but the man yanked it again, this time with so much force that Drake actually had to step closer.

"Aren't you a fucking junkie whore? This is what you do."

"I'm clean now." Something that should've been announced with pride somehow came out with a meek voice.

"You're clean now?" His voice expressed disbelief. "Just last week, you were here sucking every one of these guy's dicks, and you're clean now?"

"Just fuck off."

Again, he tried to free himself, but this time he was spun around and shoved against the wall. The man's body was pressed against his and his face was mere inches away. Drake tried to shove him, but the truck driver tightly gripped his other wrist as well.

"No need to be so fuckin' rude," the man said with a spine-chilling calm. "I'm just trying to work something out." His face was so close now that Drake turned his head to the side so that their noses weren't touching. He guided one of Drake's hands to the crotch of his pants and started massaging himself.

"HEL-"

The man used his other hand to cover Drake's mouth. "Shh, shh, shh," he hushed menacingly.

Now that Drake had a free hand, he punched the side of the driver's head as hard as he could. For retaliation, the predator slugged him right in the stomach, which was still incredibly sore and covered in a plethora of bruises.

"Mmm!"

A tear left his eye, which caused the man pinning him against the wall to smirk evilly out of one side of his mouth. Now he'd found his weakness.

* * *

"Bruh, turn this shit," Julio said for the third time.

"Turn it up?" Ricardo turned up the volume on the radio, blasting Fetty Wap's _Trap Queen_. As an added annoyance, he started singing and moving his body along to the beat. " _Married to the money, introduced her to my stove. Showed her how to whip it, now she remixin' for low. She my trap queen, let her hit the bando. We be countin' up_ — bruh, chill!" he yelled when his brother reached from the backseat and turned the volume all the way down.

"I'm so embarrassed to call you my brother."

"Shut the fuck up. Your emo ass listens to Lil' Peep." He turned the music back up, but at a reasonable volume.

Julio rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat. "Bruh, what the hell is taking him so long? I'm ready to go home and eat."

"I don't know. I'll go check on him."

Ricardo opened his door and stepped out. He went around the car and, as he did this, he heard his radio abruptly start playing Lil Peep's _Better Off Dying_. When he looked back at his brother, Julio gave him the finger. He faced forward again and, upon doing so, he bumped into a man who was exiting the bathroom.

"Ooh, 'scuse me," he said.

He slipped past him, then went inside. It was very dark. Other than one dead-roach-infested light that hung from the ceiling and stretched from the left side of the bathroom to the right, the only other light came from the thin windows high above each stall, shower and sink. Suddenly, a sniffle caught his attention. He followed the sound past the stalls and towards the showers. After arriving at the third one, he pulled back the curtain and found Drake on the tiled floor. His clothes and hair were drenched in piss, and he kept spitting and coughing and gagging as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. He was clutching his side, clearly having been punched or kicked a couple times. Laying on the floor nearby was a twenty dollar bill.

"Motherfucker!"

Back in the car, Julio, who had his Bluetooth connected to the radio, scrolled through his songs to find one to play next. He looked up when he saw movement and watched as Ricardo stomped out of the bathroom.

"Hey!" he heard faintly even though the doors and windows were all closed.

He watched his brother march over to the man who had just exited the restroom moments before. His eyes went wide when he saw him grab the driver, spin him around and punch him in the face. "Oh, shit!"

He quickly pulled at the door handle and got out of the car. He started to go towards his brother, but then he realized that something must've happened to Drake for him to react this way. Ricardo could handle his own, so he ran into the bathroom and found Drake resting on his knees in a puddle of urine.

"What the fuck? What happened?!"

Drake just shook his head. He knew that he would lose it if he tried to speak. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and started to push himself up, yelping with pain as he did so.

Although he was covered in piss, Julio helped him to his feet. "Here, let's move over here." He guided him out of that shower and into a cleaner one, then he turned on the water. "Take off your clothes." He closed the curtain to give him privacy, then he turned around and saw Drake's hygiene products scattered all over the floor. He grabbed the shampoo and body wash and set it on the floor inside of the shower stall.

"Can you hand me my toothbrush and toothpaste?"

Julio shook his head with pity, disgust and rage as he looked around for the requested belongings. When he found them, he passed them along, then stood there helplessly. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No." Drake's voice cracked.

"We can call the police-"

"No, please, don't," he said.

Julio gathered up the rest of Drake's belongings and set them against the wall so that, like his friend had planned, someone who needed them could take them. He picked up the grocery bag that they had been in and put Drake's soaked clothes in it. After this, he went over to the sink to wash his hands. All the while, he could hear Drake brush, brush, brushing his teeth, then spitting and repeating the process.

"I'm gonna go look in the car and see if we have any spare clothes," Julio said. "I'll be right back."

He made his way outside, carrying the sack full of damp clothes with him. Ricardo was still beating the shit out of the repulsive prick who had defiled their friend. The man had gotten a few good punches in, but Ricardo was winning for sure. After finding nothing inside the main part of the car, Julio popped the trunk. He tossed the sack inside, unsure of what to do with them. Should he trash them? Would Drake ever wanna wear these clothes again after what had happened to him in them? Or was it just a simple fix and all they needed was a good washing? He wasn't sure. He'd bring it up with his brother later and let him make the decision. He grabbed an old jacket that Ricardo kept in there as back-up, but that's all the clothes that he found. He went back into the bathroom and saw Drake pick up the shampoo through the crack in the curtain.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Julio could tell by the sound of his voice that he was still weeping. "I don't really have a towel or anything for you to dry off with, but I got you some clothes."

Since Drake was probably feeling a bunch of shame and the need to cover himself up, Julio removed his jeans. His friend needed them much more than he did, so he hung them and the jacket over the curtain rod. He went over to the stall that Drake had been in before, then turned on the shower so that the urine could be flushed down the drain.

Drake wanted to get away from this truck stop as quickly as possible. He tried to hurry through washing his hair and body. He'd take another much longer and more thorough shower when he got back home.

"The fuck are you looking at?" he heard his friend say.

Knowing that another truck driver was in here unnerved him. He brushed his teeth once more, then turned off the water. He shook himself dry as much as he could, which wasn't much because of the bruises on his body. He reached up with a wince and grabbed the clothes, then slipped them on and pushed back the curtain. He immediately noticed Julio cleaning up in his boxers.

"You didn't have to-"

"It's fine." Julio washed his hands again just as Ricardo entered the bathroom, sweaty and breathing heavily.

"Jesus, Drake, are you okay?" He knuckles were pouring with blood and he had a bruise developing on his left cheek.

The young man hugged himself, hiding inside of the jacket that was about ten sizes too big. "Yeah," he said meekly, his eyes on the ground.

"Let's just get the fuck out of here," Julio said.

He wrapped his arm around his friend and led him to the car. He sat in the backseat with him and, as Ricardo put the car in drive, he looked out the window at the man who was writhing in pain on the concrete, then he pulled Drake closer into a half-hug and rubbed his arm.

* * *

"Is he still in the shower?" Ricardo asked Julio when he came down the stairs.

"Yeah."

"Like, you just heard the shower running or you actually checked?"

You could never be too sure with Drake. He'd been in there for over an hour and it wasn't impossible that he had snuck out without them knowing so that he could get high again and forget about the traumatic situation he had just gone through.

"I talked to him for a second. He's just really embarrassed, I think, that we were there."

"Esa repugnante mierda," Ricardo spat, his muscles tense and his fists clenched. "God, I wanted to kill him."

Julio took a seat on the bar stool in front of the kitchen island. "He's really scared that you're gonna call the police. He said he just wants you to let it go."

Ricardo was too antsy to sit down. "I just don't understand why he wants to let this man go free. He literally got fucking pissed on and God knows what else."

"I know. Believe me, I get what you're saying," Julio said. "Maybe he's just embarrassed. Or maybe he feels like they won't help him or he thinks he'll get in trouble. It'll definitely come up that he was a male prostitute. The justice system doesn't care about people like him."

"Well, the justice system is fucked," Ricardo snapped back, but his brother's words were making sense. "I'm just so fucking pissed. He was just trying to do something nice — just trying to help out someone who's in the same situation as he was. And _this_ is what he gets for it?"

"It's fucked up," Julio agreed. "But when he gets out of the shower..." He didn't want to sound bossy or anger his brother more, but it had to be said. "You can't be acting like this."

To his relief, Ricardo sighed. "I know."

"I just feel so bad. We were literally right there."

"Hey," Ricardo said softly with furrowed brows. He went around the island and took a seat next to his brother. "You can't blame yourself for what happened. It's not your fault. Drake doesn't blame you. You know that."

"He doesn't blame us because he can't. He feels like he owes us so much."

"He doesn't blame us because he understands that we couldn't have possibly known what was going on in there. He knows you would've done something if you'd been there." He rubbed one of Julio's biceps for support.

"It's just not fair that this stuff keeps happening to him. I thought things would be better when his dad died — I know it's shitty to say — but then there's the gym coach and the guy who almost killed him last week and now this guy. I just don't understand. Why do people think it's okay? To just go up to somebody and grab them and touch them and degrade them — why are people like that?"

Ricardo pulled his distraught brother into his arms. "I don't know. They're fucking sick. You just have to remember that it's not Drake's fault and it's certainly not yours either. You're such a good person and you're a great friend. We just have to be there for him — for each other."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"We'll sit him down, we'll figure out what happened and we'll go from there. Okay?"

Julio nodded, then pulled away.

"We've gotta make sure he stays clean, we've gotta make sure you don't have another panic attack and we've gotta make sure I don't kill a bitch. We have to take care of each other. Somos una familia."

"I know." Julio sighed, then turned in his seat so that he could rest his arms on the countertop. "Today was so shit — seeing those places that he was staying. I just don't get it. Letting yourself get to that point where you're willing to live like that — do all that shit — just for a high. I know it's an addiction and I wanna understand, but I don't. If he's having a hard time and he approaches me and starts talking to me about it, I listen and I act like I know what he's talking about, but honestly, I don't."

"I know. It's a learning experience for all of us and we just have to take it as it comes."

"Hey," a soft voice said from the doorway.

Ricardo and Julio turned and saw Drake, his hair wet. He had on some plaid pajama pants that hung loosely on his waist because of the recent drop in weight. He was also wearing the sweater their step-mother had made for him. It was a bit big on him as well, but he'd grow into it now that he had a steady supply of meals. Right now, though, it was as if the sweater was swallowing him whole. He was a bit stand-offish, with his left hand clutching his right bicep nervously.

"Hey." Ricardo stood, then he made his way around the island. "You hungry? I made turkey tacos."

"I'm good," Drake said. He felt both anxious and sick to his stomach as he took a seat on the third bar stool.

Ricardo opened the microwave and pulled out a plate. He had already fixed three tacos for Drake, just the way he liked them: soft shell, little meat, a lot of cheese and the perfect ratio of taco sauce and sour cream on top. Ignoring the boy's answer, he set the plate down in front of Drake.

Since he'd overheard a bit of their conversation before making his presence known, he looked at Julio. "I'm sorry...about everything."

"Why are you saying sorry?" Ricardo said.

Drake looked down at his food and shrugged. "I didn't mean to fuck up so badly," he said quietly.

"What you heard — I didn't mean it like that," Julio said. "I just feel like I'm failing you because I don't know what you need to hear. I don't want you to think you can't talk to me because I don't get it. I want you to help me understand."

"Sometimes I don't even understand it myself," said Drake, so enticed by the smell of the tacos that he gave in and took a bite of one. His stomach growled with appreciation. Maybe he had been hungry after all.

"You know we support you," Ricardo said. "If you're ever feeling like you wanna use, we would like you to say something — to either of us."

"I know," said Drake. "I just feel like such a burden sometimes."

"You're not a burden," Julio reassured. "We're all pretty fucked up. I mean, maybe not my perfect brother over there."

Ricardo shrugged his shoulders with swagger and said, "Well, you know."

This made the corners of Drake's lips raise into a small smile.

Julio rolled his eyes at the oldest, then turned back to his friend. "I just want us to all be honest with each other."

"Yeah, I want that, too. I just hope I can earn back your trust again." Drake's fingers were dripping with grease and sauce as he bit into his second taco. For someone who hadn't been hungry moments ago, he was scarfing these things down pretty quickly.

"Of course. We already trust you, Drake." Ricardo grabbed a napkin for him, and while he was at it, he handed him a soda from the refrigerator. "Do you feel like talking about what happened?"

Drake chewed slowly to avoid answering the question. He hung his head again, thinking it over. He knew that his friends wouldn't judge him, but he hated reliving things. However, he didn't want any secrets between them, and how could they help him if he didn't tell them what he had been through? He swallowed down his food.

"What, like, today? Or the whole time I was gone?"

"Just whatever you wanna talk about," Ricardo said. "If you need to get anything off your chest, we're all ears. Or if you just wanna talk to Julio, that's fine."

"Or I can go if you're more comfortable with Ricardo," Julio offered.

"No, it's okay," Drake said. He was finishing up his last taco, but he was still pretty hungry. It was probably because he had devoured them so fast. Fifteen minutes from now, his stomach will probably start aching and he'll regret having eaten so much. "I don't mind talking to both of you."

"You wanna move to the living room?" Ricardo said, suggesting a more comfortable environment.

Drake stood and, before following them into the neighboring room, he put his plate in the sink, washed his hands and wiped off his mouth. He joined the two. Ricardo was sitting on the recliner in the corner and Julio was on the couch. Drake sat down on the other end of the couch with his legs folded up underneath him to keep the pressure off of his sore bottom.

He started with today's events, explaining kind of shamefully that he had let that man give him a "golden shower" before when he needed the cash. He assured them that that was all he did with him, which made them feel a bit better that there wasn't any added sexual assault. After this, he went back to the beginning, recalling the events that had went down the day he left and what Tad had really said to him outside the bar that night. He talked about what happened to him, decisions he made, his thought processes that led him to those choices and how things ended up getting so badly so quickly. He didn't go into much detail about the prostitution. He touched on it when it was relevant to the story, but there was no need to go into explicit detail about every little fuck and every little handjob. Eventually, he got to the night where he finally got sober, retelling what had happened with Mrs. Hayfer, her husband and Dev. Julio had been asleep until Mrs. Hayfer pulling out of the driveway had woken him and, although Drake knew that Ricardo had filled him in, he opened up about it anyway, letting them both know his side of the story.

After everything, Julio, Ricardo and Drake continued to have an honest and mature discussion. They asked questions, and he answered them. They expressed interest, compassion and understanding, which made him feel more comfortable and at ease. He cried and then Julio cried and even Ricky cried, but after it was over (four and a half hours later), each one felt better about getting things off of their chests. The conversation became much lighter and, pretty soon, Ricardo had his feet propped up in the recliner, Julio was sitting on the floor with a beer in his hand and Drake was snuggled up on the couch, dozing off.

"...and it was just, like, the worst feeling because I feel like I let her down because I got so anxious," Julio was saying. "Like, I can perform a song in front of a crowd and not have a problem, but I was shitting my pants trying to get through that presentation. And then we got a seventy-five on it, so I figured I'd give up on her because there was no chance I was getting laid after that."

Ricardo chuckled. "You're fucking horrible."

"Yeah, well...whatever." Julio turned to see if Drake agreed with his brother. "Is that fucker asleep?"

"He probably needs it. I don't think he's been sleeping well recently."

Julio checked his phone and saw that it was close to midnight. "Shit, I guess I need to get to bed, too. I have a class in the morning." He downed what little of his beer was left, then pushed himself to his feet.

"Goodnight," Ricky said.

"You're staying up a while?"

"I might sleep here tonight."

Julio understood. He nodded. "Alright. Night."

* * *

Drake woke with a start. Now that the drugs were out of his system, the nightmares were back. He had nightmares about everything: his abusive father, his abandoning family, his time on the streets, a horror flick he had watched with Ricardo once. Even in his slumber, he couldn't seem to catch a break. Even when he wasn't aware, it was like his mind was always in fear of something. His heart was pounding in his chest and what felt like his throat. He was craving a cigarette, a drink and maybe a quick fix. He pushed himself up, then, in the dim light emanating from the lamp on the end table, he noticed Ricardo snoring away. This gesture made him feel important and cared for.

He pushed himself up, then tip-toed across the living room and quietly pulled open the front door.

* * *

 **Something good**  
 **Oh, something good**  
 **Oh, something good**  
 **Oh, something good tonight**  
 **Will make me forget about you for now**

Drake craned his neck when he heard the front door open. It was Ricardo. The man stepped out into the night, his ears filling with the sound of crickets and frogs and a song playing from Drake's phone. He saw Drake laying on the hood of his car, chain-smoking his way through a pack of cigarettes. He approached him, then held out one of the two open bottles of Red Stripe that was in his hand.

Drake sat up and took it. "Thanks." He scooted over so that the man could join him.

 **Get high, hit the floor before you go**  
 **Matador, estocada, you're my blood sport**

"You alright?" Ricky asked.

"Yeah," he said with a cloud of smoke leaving his mouth. He took a swallow of the beer.

"Can I have one of those?"

"Sure." Drake handed him the pack of L&M's.

Ricardo didn't smoke much — just occasionally when he drank to enhance the buzz. He picked up the light and lit up, then exhaled slowly, watching as the cloud of smoke drifted up into the chilly night air. "How long have you been up?"

"I don't know. Maybe thirty minutes. Long enough to smoke half of this pack," he said.

 **But something good**  
 **Oh, something good**  
 **Oh, something good**  
 **Oh, something good tonight**  
 **Will make me forget about you for now**

"This doesn't sound like your type of music," Ricardo said.

Drake shrugged. "Julio was playing this game a while ago and it had a really good soundtrack. It's just got this, like, soft, calming kinda sound."

 **Forty-eight thousand seats**  
 **Bleats and roars for my memories of you**  
 **Now that I'm fully clean**  
 **The matador is no more and is dragged from view**

Ricardo looked over at Drake, smirking before he even got any words out of his mouth. "Hey, remember that one doctor on shift that you kept saying was really hot?"

"Yeah."

"She gave me her number."

Drake smiled as he swallowed down his beer. "No, shit. Really?"

"Yeah." Ricardo chuckle. "She thought it was 'cute' how much I was concerned about you. I guess it was a turn-on."

Drake nodded his approval. "That's great. Glad I could help you out." Another swallow. "When you get married, I better be the one making the speech. I'll come up with a good one — seeing as how she's seen my ass before yours." He seemed to be reacting to this better that Ricardo had expected.

"So you'd be okay if I went out with her — with her knowing all that stuff about you?"

"Yeah, sure," said Drake. "Shit, if you don't ask her out, I will. I mean, I would. Clem's probably done with me."

"When are you planning on talking to her?"

Talking about this gave him the urge to light another cigarette, so he did. "I don't know," he said after an exhale. He watched it dissipate into the sky, then his eyes focused on the numerous stars in the blackness. Although they were discussing his current girlfriend (or whatever she was to him now), he couldn't help but think about Meelah. "Do you believe that there's a Heaven?"

 **Get high, hit the floor before you go**  
 **Matador, estocada, you're my blood sport**

"I do." Ricardo nodded, then looked over at his friend so that he would explain more.

"Do you think, like, they're really up there...watching over us, like they say?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Do you think...I mean..."

Somehow, Ricardo knew who he was talking about and what he was trying to say. "I think she wouldn't want you to live the rest of your life punishing yourself for what happened the night she passed. Meelah would want you to move on with your life because she loved you. I think she's glad that you were able to fall in love again. She wouldn't want you to be alone."

"I just miss her so much," he said.

 **Forty-eight thousand seats**  
 **Bleats and roars for my memories of you**  
 **Now that I am clean**  
 **The matador is no more and is dragged from view**

Ricardo rubbed his shoulder for a moment to show support. "She was a great girl. That's for sure."

"Yeah," Drake agreed.

"Ballsy, too. I remember when-" Ricky chuckled, "-when you saw that mouse run across the living room. She just picked it up by the tail like it was nothing."

Drake looked down at his beer bottle with a reminiscent smile.

"And you were standing on the couch yelling at her to take it outside."

"Oh, don't play that with me. You were just as freaked out as I was," Drake said with a grin. "We'd probably still be standing on the furniture like useless bitches if she hadn't have been there."

"Well, I don't seem to recall it going down that way," Ricardo said, refusing to give up his man card.

Drake shook his head, his teeth showing with his smile. He took another puff, then exhaled slowly. His voice took on a more serious tone. "I just hope I can make her proud."

"I think you have."

Ricardo looked over at his friend, who was still gazing at the sky. Even after everything — after all the shit he had been through — here he was, trying again to make his life better. Ricky knew it was hard. He admired and was even inspired by that. Despite what Drake believed, the boy was definitely the strongest person he knew.

Ricardo held up his beer. "To starting over."

Drake turned his head towards the bottle and, after a moment's thought, he clinked the glasses together. "To starting over."

Both boys held the bottles upside-down over their lips and finished off the rest of their beers.

 **But something good**  
 **Oh, something good**  
 **Oh, something good**  
 **Oh, something good tonight**  
 **Will make me forget about you for now**

* * *

Alice waved to one of the ladies who offered a kind smile as she walked by. "Have a good weekend, Mary."

"You, too."

She wrapped her stylish black jacket around her when she pushed the door open and stepped out into the chilly February air. Today had been one incredibly long Friday and, although she didn't want to be here, she didn't want to go home to her husband either. Things were still rocky with him. He was trying everything to make it up to her, but that trust was broken. Garrett most likely hadn't cheated on her before the Drake incident or after, but sometimes it was hard to look at him the same way after the mess she had walked into. He swore up and down that Drake had been the first and that it was just that one time and that Drake had been the initiator. The young man had basically confirmed this story that night. Therefore, she was trying her damnedest to work things out with him. Their first couple's counseling session was this afternoon and she prayed that a professional could help them fix things.

The woman sighed and actually stopped in the middle of the parking lot when she saw a small figure sitting on the concrete in front of her car. He was had his knees to his chest, was wearing sunglasses and was hidden in a large jacket, but somehow, she knew who it was. She approached her car, stopping to talk to the person only because she had to dig her key out of her purse before she could unlock the door anyway.

"What do you want?"

Drake looked over at her, for he hadn't heard her come up. He quickly pushed himself to his feet. "Hey." He glanced around to see if anyone was looking at them. Although he'd left high school close to four years ago, he didn't want any of the other teachers to recognize him, especially if what Mrs. Hayfer had said was true and they had all gossiped about his father's murder attempt and the physical and sexual abuse that took place before that.

"What are you doing here? You can't just show up at my work like this." She looked at him, but since he was pretty covered up, all she could really see was that he was still fairly thin. "I know you didn't come here to ask for drug money."

"No," Drake said, partly offended, but also partly knowing that he didn't have the right to be. "I'm clean now."

Alice looked at him, but because he was wearing sunglasses, she couldn't get a read on whether or not he was lying. "Is there something you need?" She had her keys in her hand now and was ready to go.

"I just came to tell you that and to say thanks. Like, you saved my life. And also, I'm really sorry...about everything. I never meant to put you in danger like that." He noticed that the bruise and cut were gone. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Are you done now?"

He was kind of taken aback by her rudeness, but then again, she had caught him messing around with her husband, so it made sense that she didn't feel up for a light chat. She had openly expressed her disdain for him before anyway.

"Yeah. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for how everything went down."

"Alright. Well, thank you." If she appreciated the gesture, she didn't show it. Alice made her way to the side of the car and opened the door, but before getting in, she looked up at Drake. "You know, I go home everyday and I can't even look at my husband in the eyes because of what you did."

Drake nodded before resting his head low in shame. "I am _so_ sorry. I didn't know he was your husband."

"And if you had? Would you still have done it?"

The young man hadn't thought about this before. He mulled it over in his head until he came up with the conclusion that, if he had been _that_ desperate for cash, yes, he probably would've done it anyway. "I don't know." His inner conscious reminded him that it was important to be honest, no matter how shitty the consequences. "Maybe. Look, I know I'm a piece of shit-"

"You've got that right."

"I just wish there was something I could do to make it up to you."

"You can stay away from me, for starters. And don't ever talk to my husband again."

Drake nodded. "Okay." He felt that it was best for him to go with this, so he offered her one last, "I'm sorry." He turned and started to leave, but stopped when she called his name.

"Hey, Drake?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Are you really clean and off the streets?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded her approval. "Good for you. Keep it that way." With that, she got into her car and, moments later, she started the engine and drove past the boy.

They weren't best friends. In fact, Mrs. Hayfer still hated him, but he owed her a thousand apologies and, maybe one day, she could learn how to forgive him.

He made his way across the parking lot, his pace slow since he was still in pain. He lit up a cigarette, his nerves shot, then made his way back home.

* * *

Drake looked up from his book when he heard the front door open. When Julio saw him, he grabbed a beer, then walked from the kitchen into the living room, dumping his backpack on the floor with exasperation.

"Shit day?" Drake asked.

"I'm just so ready to be done with school." He plopped down onto the recliner as if he'd just worked a double shift on his feet all day. He grabbed the bottle opener that Ricardo kept in the drawer of the end table and popped off the lid, then took a long sip. After this, he noticed that Drake had a thick book open. "Jesus, you actually _have_ been reading. What's that one?"

"Still _Trainspotting_. I never got the chance to finish it."

"So is this, like, gonna be a thing with you now? You reading?"

Drake shrugged. "I don't know. It's not so bad. Kinda takes my mind off things and makes me feel smarter than I am. I've never actually read a chapter book before, except for school. Well, I never really read then either. I just got some girl to do the homework for me."

"What is that? Like, four hundred pages?"

"Just about."

"Dope," Julio said, then he took another swallow of his beer. "Read to me."

Drake's brow furrowed. "What, like, from the beginning?"

"No, just start wherever you already are. And use your Scottish accent," he said, cracking a grin.

Drake looked down at his book, searching for the paragraph he had left off on. He'd had to do a bit of rereading today because he was pretty fucked up the last time he had read and couldn't remember what was happening. Like requested, he used the accent. " _The upshot ay this attitude is that ah was sent tae this therapy/counselling shite. Ah didnae want aw this. It wis this or the jail. Ah'm startin tae think that Spud goat the soft option. This shite muddies the waters for us; confuses rather than clarifies issues. Basically, aw ah ask is that cunts mind their ain business and ah'll dae the same. Why is it that because ye use hard drugs every cunt feels that they have a right tae dissect and analyse ye?_

 _"Once ye accept that they huv that right, ye'll join them in the search fir this holy grail, this thing that makes ye tick. Ye'll then defer to them, allowin yersel tae be conned intae believin any biscuit-arsed theory ay behaviour they choose tae attach tae ye. Then yir theirs, no yir ain; the dependency shifts from the drug to them._

 _"Society invents a spurious convoluted logic tae absorb and change people whae's behaviour is outside its mainstream. Suppose that ah ken aw the pros and cons, know that ah'm gaunnae huv a short life, am ay sound mind etcetera, etcetera, but still want tae use smack? They won't let ye dae it. They won't let ye dae it, because it's seen as a sign ay thir ain failure. The fact that ye jist simply choose tae reject whit they huv tae offer. Choose us. Choose life. Choose mortgage payments; choose washing machines; choose cars; choose sitting oan a couch watching mind-numbing and spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fuckin junk food intae yir mooth. Choose rotting away, pishing and shiteing yirsel in a home, a total fuckin embarrassment tae the selfish, fucked-up brats ye've produced. Choose life._

 _"Well, ah choose no tae choose life. If the cunts cannae handle that, it's thair fuckin problem. As Harry Lauder sais, ah jist intend tae keep right on to the end of the road..._ "

* * *

Julio awoke to the sound of keys crashing against the linoleum floor.

"Shit," he heard Ricardo say from the kitchen.

The young man picked up his phone and checked the time. It was a little after six. He got out of the recliner, stretched his muscles, then made his way into the next room over, where he saw both Drake and his brother.

"What are you cooking?" Ricardo asked.

Drake felt pretty useless since he didn't have a job, so, like he did when living with Tad, he had started dinner and tidied up the house a bit. "Salmon patties and squash."

"I brought home some bacon mac and cheese bites from the bar."

"Awesome. My fav." Drake took the to-go box out of his full hands. As he did this, he noticed the man holding a stack of papers. "What's that?"

"Some billing stuff I have to look over," he said, setting them down on the small table by the front door. "I'll probably wait until tomorrow. I'm so exhausted."

"How much longer?" Julio asked as he hovered over the stove. He realized that he had never eaten lunch after coming in from school, so he was starving.

"I think it's almost done." Drake joined him and checked on the food.

Ricardo was still setting things down: his jacket, his keys, his empty travel mug.

Julio noticed two Redbox cases in his hand. "Ooh, what'd you get?"

The man seemed rather proud of his picks. He passed one to his brother. " _A Quiet Place_ for you."

"Aw, dope!"

He held up the other one for tonight's chef to see since he was on the other side of the kitchen. " _The Disaster Artist_ for Drake."

Drake gave a silent nod of approval as he sucked the melted cheese off of his finger, giving him away for stealing one of the bacon mac and cheese bites.

"Which one are we watching first?" Julio asked.

"I don't care," Ricardo said. "You and Drake decide."

Julio looked at the boy, who just shrugged indecisively.

Pretty soon, the three sat around the television in the living room with their plates of food. Julio and Ricardo had made sandwiches out of their salmon patties while Drake dipped his in ketchup. Each boy had a beer because _The Disaster Artist_ was one of those movies that you watch with friends and shared laughs over a couple of beers. They decided to watch this one first so that it could get darker outside before they put in the horror flick.

As Drake watched the movie, he couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging here. He didn't feel it often, but when he did, it usually wasn't a good thing. He had felt liked he belonged at his father's because he thought he was a piece of shit. Kenzly's place had always felt like home because he knew he was white trash. Now here, with his two best friends, he felt like he had a great support system and was surrounded by people who truly cared about him. It was a nice feeling — knowing that you're loved.

* * *

When she opened the door, it was like watching a model executing a bunch of different poses that was being yelled out by an eccentric photographer. First was complete and utter shock, followed by a short-lived show of relief, which was quickly washed away by a wave of worry and concern. Next came confusion and something that Drake thought looked a lot like fear. Was it possible that she was actually scared of him? The young man had no time to decipher this when her expression changed to betrayal, to repulsion and, finally, to absolute rage. Before he saw it coming, her hand came up and connected with his cheek so hard that it hurt her as well, but she refused to show it. Drake's head was turned with the force of the blow, the ringing caused by the slap loud in his ears. His eyes watered over — not because of the pain — but because he knew — he just knew — that he was going to lose her. He had told himself over and over again during his walk here that he wouldn't cry, but seeing her — seeing the toll his relapse had taken on her — made him feel like the worst person in the world. He tried to swallow back the lump in his throat so that he could talk, but it was fucking useless. He was definitely going to cry.

"Clem-" his voice cracked with guilt.

"Sod off, ya lousy knobhead." She started to shut the door, but he was quick to catch it.

"Please, just — I'm so, so sorry."

"You must be well plastered to show up at my gaff after airing me for two bloody months. Is that it?"

"I'm sober-"

"Bollocks!"

"I am," he promised. "I've cleaned up again."

"I don't care," she shrugged with nonchalance. Her nose was turned up snootily and she glared at him as if he was covered in shit. "So you can piss right the fuck off."

"Please, let me explain-"

"Explain? I'll save you the trouble. I can explain for you. You chose drugs over me. You bloody left, and you couldn't be arsed to give me a ring or anything of the sort. You just fucking blanked."

"I am _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"But you did, you twat. I don't deserve that."

"I know. I fucked up. I was just feeling so shitty and I didn't think it'd get that far, but I spiraled out of control. I'm so ashamed."

"You should be," she snapped in a holier-than-thou manner. "You're bloody pathetic. You're a minging junkie and you're gonna be one for the rest of your useless life. I feel sorry for you, Drake. You're stuck in this loop of constantly fucking yourself over. You get something good in your life and you bloody ruin it. You'll be spending the rest of your life alone, and rightly so."

"It was a mistake," Drake begged. "I love you."

"And I loved you, but then you left me alone to lay awake every night worrying about whether or not you were alive. That's not love, Drake. I was gutted."

"But I do. I love you so much. I'm an asshole. I should've called, but I was so embarrassed that things got so bad. You're right. I'm pathetic, but I swear I'm clean now."

"So what if you are?" she said and it sounded like she felt as though it was a genuine pity that things had turned out this way. "What about tomorrow then? Or the next day? Or after that? How would I know you're not gonna run off in the middle of the night for a quick fix?"

"Because I promise." The tears had started to fall at this point.

"Aw, Drake." She reached out and placed her palm gently on the still-stinging skin she had slapped before. "You promised me in the car that day. Remember?"

"It was a mistake," he said again, silently pleading with his eyes for her to understand. "I promise that this time will be different."

Dahlia pulled her hand away. "I don't think we should be seeing each other anymore."

"Baby, please." A sob broke through with those words and his heart took a free-fall to the bottom of his stomach. "Please, just give me another chance. I swear I'll do better. I love you."

"I'm not gonna live my life competing with bloody pills for your attention, babe."

Can she feel it? He could feel it: the earth shaking, the world spinning, the sky falling. His entire life was crumbling down, but she just stood there in front of him, looking just as okay as ever. It was hard to breathe. It felt like his heart had burst with so much force that it caused his rib cage to break into a million tiny pieces of sharp bones that penetrated his lungs, which were now slowly and cruelly deflating.

"I can't live without you." He knew it sounded lame, but he felt like it was the truth. "I need you."

"It seems that you've done alright enough without me while you were away."

"What can I do to make it up to you? I'll do anything."

"Leave me alone, Drake," she said, but it wasn't in a rude way.

"Who's at the door, babe?" It was a male voice. A hand pulled the door open wider to reveal a boy who was close to Drake's age. However, he was much taller, muscular, tanner, hotter, etcetera.

Drake's red-rimmed eyes expressed the utter anguish he felt in his chest when the boy, clad only in a pair of boxers, wrapped his arms around Dahlia from behind and kissed her neck. "Clem..." he choked, as if begging her to wake him from this horrible nightmare.

"What did you expect? I was just supposed to wait around for God knows how long until you decided to show up?"

The new boyfriend straightened and put on a tough guy facade. "This is the fucker who broke your heart?" He seemed less than impressed.

"Clem, please. I'm begging you. Just give me one more chance."

"I think you should leave, Drake," she said.

"Please."

"She wants you to leave," said the boyfriend.

"Clem..." He met her eyes, hoping that she could see just how truly sorry he was. He stepped closer so that he could hold her hands in his, praying that his touch will connect them the way it once had. "Please. I swear on everything that I'll be better."

The boy placed his hand on Drake's chest, then pushed him back. "You need to go."

Drake shoved it away. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Or what?" The boyfriend moved closer challengingly. "What are you gonna do?"

"Carter, stop," the girl chimed in.

"Come on, you fucking pussy." Carter pushed him again.

Drake stumbled backwards. He immediately knew that this was a fight that he was going to lose. Carter was far too tall and too muscular.

"You're gonna walk out on her, and now that she's moved on, you're gonna show up and try to ruin her new relationship? You're just a pathetic fucking junkie," he spat tauntingly. Another shove.

"Carter," Clementine tried.

Quietly so that the girl couldn't hear, Carter said, "Why don't you run on home like the little bitch you are so I can go back inside and fuck the shit out of your ex girlfriend?"

A surge of fury ran through Drake's body. He couldn't even stop himself from winding back his fist and going for a punch. However, Carter had expected this and was able to dodge it.

"Drake!" Dahlia yelled.

Now was the time for Carter's retaliation. He wound up for his punch, then his knuckles cracked against the boy's jaw with so much force that Drake's legs gave out. The next thing he knew, he was laying on the concrete driveway. He started to blink away the dizziness, but Carter interrupted with a kick to his already severely bruised side.

"Ahh!"

"Carter! Stop!"

For a moment, he felt paralyzed by the pain. It was as if he had taken so many beatings during his lifetime that he was just at the point that he couldn't fight it anymore. What did he care anyway? Nothing could hurt more than his broken heart — or so he'd thought until he was kicked again.

"Gaahhh!"

He reached out his arm and started dragging himself across the asphalt, but Carter grabbed it and pinned it behind him. The boy sat on top of him, digging a knee into the lower portion of his bruised back.

"Ahh! Get off!"

"Carter!" Clementine was next to them now. She tried pulling her boyfriend's arm, but was shoved to the side.

"Don't fucking touch her! Ah!" Drake clenched his teeth when Carter's knee poked harder into him. His cheek scraped against the pavement as his head was held against it.

"You weak piece of shit. What are you gonna do, huh? Kill me? Like you killed your father?"

For a moment, Drake froze and he felt sick to his stomach.

"Carter, stop!"

"Yeah, she told me all about it," he went on. "She told me everything. About the abuse. About the rape. You're fucking weak."

Drake met Dahlia's eyes, begging for it not to be true, but he knew that it was. His nostrils flared and his bottom lip quivered from the betrayal.

"You put up with it for so long, you must've fucking liked it, huh? Is this giving you flashbacks? Do you have a hard-on yet?"

Drake's face contorted as a fresh wave of tears clogged up his eyes. He kept his mouth shut to keep the sobs to a minimal, but every now and then, one would break through.

 ***FLASHBACK***

Drake kept his head low as he scooped a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. It wasn't the best spaghetti — he'll be the first to admit it — but the fact that Martin complained and belittled him after almost every bite was getting on his nerves.

"Get me a beer. I gotta wash this fucking taste out of my mouth. For Christ's sake."

It wasn't that bad. This was the first time Drake had made the dish, so it wasn't great either, but his father was overreacting. Too scared to disobey and irritate the man further, he stood, went over to the refrigerator and got him his alcohol. He brought it back to the table, but Martin wasn't pleased.

"Oh, what? And I'm just supposed to open this with my magic powers?"

Again, Drake stood, then grabbed a bottle opener out of the drawer closest to the fridge. He plopped it onto the tabletop, then went back to his spaghetti, finding it hard to keep his agitation in check.

His father was glaring at him, shocked that he was acting so audaciously. "You better drop this fucking attitude right now. You hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Drake said quietly to his plate.

Suddenly, Martin grabbed a fistful of hair from the side of his head and yanked him closer. "HUH?!"

"I said okay." His voice shook with fear, but he was sure to be louder this time.

Martin shoved him away. "Snarky little cunt." And then, "Where the hell is the damn garlic bread?"

Drake felt his heart drop and he had to take a sip out of his glass of water to keep from choking.

"Well?"

"I forgot to make it," he admitted, noticing that his fingers were trembling around the glass.

"You forgot to make it?" Martin repeated as if he didn't understand.

"You told me to put up the laundry and it slipped my mind," he explained, hoping that this good deed canceled out the bad one.

"You're fucking useless. You know that?"

Drake had lost his appetite. He just wanted this dinner to be over so that he could hide away in the sanctity of his bedroom.

"Well, get up and make the fucking garlic bread!" Martin yelled, hurling his half-empty beer bottle at him.

Drake clutched his head when it made contact, but he stood and went straight to work. He grabbed a couple pieces of bread, buttered them up, sprinkled some garlic on them, then put them in the oven. This was the best that he could do with their lack of money and ingredients.

"Clean up this fucking mess," Martin said about the beer spilled on the floor.

The young man obeyed. He got on his knees and soaked up the alcohol with paper towels. He could feel his father's eyes on him.

"You're missing this whole spot right here." The man pointed with his toes.

Drake pulled off another couple pieces from the roll of towels and wiped down the place his father had said and even places nearby. He couldn't see where the clear liquid had landed, and he didn't want the man to get onto him about doing a half-assed job, so he dragged the towel across the floor to make sure he got it all up.

"That's enough. Get." Martin kicked him.

It wasn't hard, but it was enough to make him lose his balance. His knees fell out from under him and he landed on his recently bruised hip. He pushed himself out of the floor, grabbing the bottle as he did so, then he tossed it and the wet paper towels into the trash can.

"Get me another beer."

Drake felt so small compared to the man. He felt weak for allowing himself to be treated this way — for letting his dad boss him around like this. However, he said nothing as he brought another bottle from the refrigerator.

"Open it, will ya?" he said as he wiped his hands and mouth off on a napkin.

Drake picked up the bottle opener and popped off the lid, then held it out for the man like a servant, making him feel further demeaned. Martin did things like this on purpose all the time. It was a manipulation tactic that he used to teach his son about humility and his worthlessness.

Although Martin hadn't said anything on the matter, Drake felt like he wasn't allowed to sit down and continue eating until the garlic toast was finished. When it finally was, he used an oven mitt to carry the hot pan over to the table. The man snatched the spatula out of his son's hand rudely, then started scooping four pieces onto his plate, leaving Drake with one. The boy didn't argue. He put the pan in the sink for later, then sat down at the table again.

He wasn't even able to take a bite before Martin said, "Great. Now my fucking food is cold because of your incompetence. Heat this in the microwave."

Once again, Drake stood and followed orders. He soon returned with the food and set the plate in front of his father.

Martin took a bite of the spaghetti, and his nose turned up at the taste. "Fucking hell. I don't understand how you could possibly make spaghetti taste this bad. Do you know how to do anything right, you lousy dumbass?"

Tired of getting shit on, Drake said, "Maybe you should cook for yourself next time," and he immediately regretted it.

"What did you say?" the man asked. "What did you say?!"

"Nothing," Drake tried.

"Tell me what you said."

"Nothing," he replied meekly.

He felt the man staring daggers at him even though he kept his eyes down. Suddenly, with one swipe of his arm, everything on the table was pushed into the floor. Food, liquids and glass scattered about. Drake fearfully hopped out of his chair so fast that he knocked it over. Martin was already on his feet. He grabbed the small dining room table and tossed it across the kitchen so that there was nothing in between himself and his terrified son. Drake held his hands up in front of his chest pleadingly, but Martin managed to grab the collar of his shirt anyway. He tossed him against the wall, then wound his fist back.

 ***END FLASHBACK***

"You think you can just show up and try to take my girlfriend from me? Why would she ever want you? Look at you. Your dad's got you all kinds of fucked up. I mean, your own father has touched you — put his dick inside of you. Who could ever love you after that? You're disgusting."

Drake was shaking underneath him. He wasn't even focused on the pain anymore. It was like he wasn't really here. Instead, he was back at his father's, being pinned down and raped after the whole dinner fiasco. It was so vivid — like he was actually there.

"Carter, leave him alone." Despite how much she hated Drake right now, Clementine couldn't stand seeing him like this. She knew by the dead stare that he was gone — stuck in his head somewhere, reliving some of the worst days of his life.

"I better not ever find you trying to talk to my girlfriend again. I guarantee I pack a punch twice as hard as your alcoholic, trailer trash daddy ever did." Finally, he pushed himself onto his feet, then gave Drake another swift kick to the ribs, which seemed to pull him out of his trance.

"Aahhh!"

"Come on," Carter said to Dahlia, who just sat there in shock at the events that had transpired. "Let's go!"

She stood, then allowed him to take her hand and lead her inside, leaving Drake to suffer through his mental breakdown alone in their driveway.

* * *

Drake closed the front door louder than he had meant to, which earned the attention of the Santos brothers, who were sitting in the living room and leaning over one of Julio's textbooks. Drake couldn't even stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Goddamnit," he whispered, for he'd wanted to sneak in.

"What happened?!" Julio asked after noticing a fresh new bruise.

"I'mfine." He reached for the wall because his eye roll had made his world spin. He wasn't as close to it as he thought, so he had to take another two steps forwards before his fingertips even came close to touching it.

Ricardo knew immediately. "Drake..." he said with disappointment and a desperation to understand. "What have you done?"

"I'ma fuckin' addict! Don'tact sosurprised."

The man stood. "What happened to you?"

"Whathappenedtome? Iwasbeaten. Iwasmolested. Iwas raped. Andyoujustsatback andlethimdoit."

Julio joined them. He was almost more shocked than his speechless brother. "Drake, what the fuck?"

The boy let go of a harsh chuckle. "C'mon, youknew Iwasgonna be likethis forever. My dad couldn't stay sobereither, thefuckin' prick."

"How many did you take?" Ricardo asked.

"Noneofyourfuckin'business."

"How many?!"

Drake smirked playfully. He was clearly out of his head. "Guess."

"Stop fucking around."

Julio decided it was easiest to play his game. "Two...?" When Drake shook his head, he tried, "Three? Four?" He received a nod of confirmation. "Four boxes?"

"Dingdingding! Wehaveawinner! Ricky, please tellthe contestant whathe'swon."

"How many is that?" the man asked, his thoughts racing too much to do the math himself.

After a quick calculation in his head, Julio said, "Sixty-four."

"Sixty-four pills?!"

"Drake, why did you do this?" his best friend asked with hurt.

"'Cause I'manaddict. It'swhat I do."

Ricardo reached for him although he wasn't sure what to do with him. He could take him to the bathroom and try to make him throw up or he could lead him into the kitchen and force him to eat so that he'd sober up. However, he didn't get the chance because Drake shoved him away. He almost lost his balance in the process, but he caught himself and clutched the wall again.

"Getthefuck awayfromme!" his voice rose suddenly. "Stop tryingto save me! You can't fix me! I'm damaged! I'm broken! Just let me go!"

It was more of a plead than a demand. It was as if Drake had spent the last several years clutching onto this lifesaver that Ricardo had tossed him, but the rope was ripped in two and he couldn't be pulled back in. There was no way out of the treacherous waves. All he could do was fight to keep his head above water, but he could never, ever return to the safety of the ship. Now he was exhausted and out of breath and maybe it was time for him to let go of the lifesaver and allow whatever was always suppose to happen to finally happen.

Again, he spoke, but now in a begging whisper, his dilated eyes glistening with tears. "Just let me go."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hey, guys! Hope everyone's holidays were swell! I don't really have much to say. I hope to hear some of your thoughts. I didn't receive any reviews on the previous chapter, so just let me know if it's uninteresting or if it should be going in a different direction. I love for you guys to provide me with some comments and constructive criticism. Thanks so much! Until next time!**


	4. Motivation Mountain: The Getaway

Drake awoke with a start. Because of the copious amount of pills he had taken the night before, his heart was pounding fast, but it felt coated because the rest of his body was numb. That is, until he tried to lift his arm. Funny, he had never felt physical pain before when coming down from Triple C's. The insides of his elbows ached intensely and so did the joints in his wrists and knees.

"Get up."

Drake blinked his eyes and saw Ricardo standing above him. His brows scrunched up with confusion, but when he looked at the table, he saw a backpack, which is what the man had dropped in order to wake him. Suddenly, everything was clear. He was being kicked out. Despite Ricardo's vows that he would never do it, Drake had known that he, just like everyone else, had a breaking point.

"Come on. Get up," the man said impatiently.

If he hadn't taken so many pills last night, Drake might have actually felt some kind of way about all of this, but he was too numb to care. He pushed himself up, the muscles in his back giving him trouble as he did so.

"I got his shoes." Julio suddenly appeared with a pair of black Converse. He passed them along.

Drake absently took them and placed them onto his feet.

"Get in the car," Ricardo ordered when he finished tying them.

Drake felt gross. The drugs had caused him to sweat throughout the night, so his hair was oily and his clothes were sticking to his body. He looked up at the man, still tiredly hunched over from getting his shoes on. His face was completely dead and expressionless, but his voice showed his exhaustion. "Jesus, can't you at least let me get a fucking shower in?"

"Just get in the fucking car."

Drake winced as he pushed himself onto his feet, his bones popping as he did so. He picked up the book bag and, like commanded, he got into the passenger's seat. If he had any emotions left inside of him, he would think that this was pretty fucked up. They were just gonna dump him on the side of the road like people did to puppies after they turned into adult dogs and got unruly and uncontrollable with the kids. Drake was the unruly and uncontrollable dog in this scenario.

Despite his heart physically feeling as though it was vibrating, Drake felt a sort of calmness all over his body. He let go of a slow breath, then inhaled, and he felt the oxygen fill up his lungs. He felt alive. It was an indescribable feeling — the morning after. It's like a complete emptiness. It's like there's nothing there, but you can feel the nothingness. Drake could feel every single one of his organs pumping and working and doing their normal functions. His normally anxious and never-slowing brain was now slowed down and he was thinking one thought at a time or sometimes not thinking anything at all. All his nerves and all his depression were washed away for the time being. This is why he was in love with Charlie.

Julio watched his friend from the backseat. Drake was absentmindedly rubbing the corner of his phone against his numb, chapped lips, his eyes glued to the dashboard in front of him. It was like he was in deep thought, but there was nothing going on in his head. All that was running through his mind was how good it felt to be able to breathe so slowly and to feel so okay. He wasn't worried about the fact that he was now homeless. His lack of money wasn't a bother. He wasn't stressed over the fact that, hours from now, he would be giving out blowjobs just to feel this way again. He was Alice, this was his skewed version of Wonderland, and Charlie was the name of the white rabbit he had followed to get here. Drake was set on following that rabbit for the rest of his life.

Drake blinked, and suddenly he couldn't remember how long he had been in the car for. Had he dozed off or just zoned out? Probably the latter. He looked out the window and saw that they were coming up on the truck stop.

"Can you let me out here, please?"

His request went ignored, however, and Ricardo turned onto the interstate entrance instead.

Drake rested his head against the seat with confusion, but it was a good kind of confusion and he welcomed it. "Geez, you're going pretty far out of your way just to get rid of me."

It was an observation that he hadn't meant to say out loud. Were they taking him out in the middle of nowhere to abandon him in hopes that he couldn't find his way back home? No fucking need. He knew when he wasn't wanted.

After a while, the only thing Drake could think about was the gross feeling on his teeth. He slid his tongue across them for a while, then he scratched away as much of the plaque as he could. He couldn't taste anything, but if he could, he would taste vomit, cigarettes and Dr. Pepper. The young man grabbed his backpack out of the floor, then unzipped the smaller zipper in the front. Lucky guess. This is where a Ziplock bag full of hygiene products was located. He opened it, then rummaged around until he found his toothbrush and toothpaste. Julio watched as he started brushing his teeth in the front seat of the car.

Triple C's were pretty bad for your teeth. It could be because of the chemicals in the drug or all the puke that comes back up or both. Drake wasn't sure. Because of this (and also probably because, in his daze, he unknowingly brushed his teeth for close to ten minutes before an annoyed Ricardo stopped him) his gums were bleeding. He looked around, suddenly realizing he had nowhere to spit. Maybe he hadn't thought his whole thing through. Again, he opened his book bag, then he spat into it, a long string of bloodied saliva and toothpaste leaving his lips.

"What the hell, Drake?" Ricardo said, glancing at him with what was probably irritation and disgust. "Why the fuck didn't you spit out the window?"

Drake looked at it and suddenly realized for the first time that that would've been a better option. He hadn't thought of it because it hadn't existed to him before now. Nothing outside of this car existed. None of the normalities of the world pertained to him: jobs, bills, dinner plans, keeping in touch with friends, celebrating a special occasion, remembering what day and time it was so that you didn't miss your favorite tv show. All of these stressors were on the other side of that window.

He mumbled something along the lines of, "It wasn't just there for a second."

With this, Ricardo concluded that he was still high. However, the ride was going to be a semi-long one, so he should come down before they reach their destination.

* * *

"Hey," Ricardo whispered, rubbing Drake's shoulder softly to wake him.

Drake blinked his eyes, the bright sunlight blinding him as it shined through the windows. His body and joints ached. He wasn't sure how much was caused by the previous night's drug use and how much of it was because he had been sitting upright in the passenger's seat of a car sleeping for... How long had it been? He stretched his arms out in front of himself, then looked at the inside of his elbow, pondering what could possibly have him aching so badly. He massaged one of his arms, wondering if it had to do with how many pills he had taken. Charlie wasn't usually the kind of drug to give you withdrawal symptoms such as these.

"You alright?" Ricardo asked.

"Yeah." He saw that the car was moving down an empty road surrounded by trees. "Where are we going?" His high was gone, so although he was still feeling the after-effects of a long night of Triple C consumption, his voice expressed a bit of anxiety.

"You'll see when we get there," the man said.

This did not calm him at all. Although sluggish, Drake's mind was able to create several fitting scenarios until he came up with the one that made the most sense.

"Please, don't take me to rehab. I know I fucked up last night and I'm sorry. It was just a one-time thing, though. I swear."

Ricardo could hear the desperation in his voice.

Julio spoke up from the backseat. "So you still wanna get clean?"

"I do, but not in rehab. I made a mistake, but I swear I won't do it again, okay?" He was pleading hard, but he wasn't sure if they were believing him. Shit, _he_ wouldn't believe him.

"If you're getting clean anyway, then what's so bad about rehab? It sounds to me like you don't wanna go because you wouldn't be able to sneak off for a fix."

"Please, I just don't wanna go. I'll clean up for real this time, okay? I promise."

Ricardo glanced at him and noticed that Drake's fingers, which tightly gripped his seatbelt, were trembling. He was actually scared right now, the man noticed. Last night, Drake had been someone else, but now, sitting next to him, he looked small and fragile and absolutely terrified.

"Relax," the man said. "We're not going to rehab."

Although Ricardo had never once given Drake a reason not to trust him, he found it hard to believe his words. "Look, I'm really sorry that I relapsed. I'm just as disappointed as you are. I know you've given me chance after chance and I keep blowing them, but there's no reason to lock me away."

"I'm not gonna make you go to rehab," Ricardo assured. "...yet. I just figured that we should all get away for a while — take a step back from our lives and start putting things into perspective."

Drake couldn't shake his feelings of negativity. "This is like a punishment?"

"No, of course not. In fact, I think you'll really like it. It's like our first vacation together."

"Vacation?" His voice was still shaky, but now he was starting to understand.

"Yeah. Like a road trip with just us guys. The family. The Santos brothers."

Although his last name was legally Parker, Drake was a Santos in their eyes.

Ricardo reached over and gave Drake's shoulder a pat. "It'll be fun and relaxing, so chill."

* * *

Drake slung his bag over his shoulder, then closed the door, his eyes almost shut because of the bright, shining sun. He looked at the cabin and, although he was relieved that it wasn't rehab, he still wasn't fully calm. Drake yawned, then turned and saw Ricardo and Julio grab their own bags out of the backseat. When had they packed?

"God, I haven't been out here in...five years?" Julio joined Drake at the front of the car.

Ricardo pressed a button on his keys, and the car beeped as the doors locked. He started towards the house and the other two boys followed.

"Where are we?" Drake's nervousness showed in his voice.

"My cousin Louis' cabin."

"He's rich as fuck," Julio explained.

Ricardo continued. "And the only actual store around is the little shop back at the bottom of the mountain, which is, like, a ten minutes drive, so don't even try making a plan to sneak off for a drug run because it'll be useless. Walking would take hours and I doubt they even have them anyway."

"I wasn't..." Although he hadn't thought about getting high, he suddenly felt panicky knowing that he couldn't even if he wanted. He felt so anxious, in fact, that he put his hand over his heart to see if he could feel how fast it was beating through his chest.

"Jesus Christ, don't be so dramatic."

"I..." He wanted to ask how long they were staying, but he knew that it would only make him look more suspicious.

As he looked around, he saw that there were no other houses in sight. They were literally alone for...who knows how far away the next cabin was? There were no stores, no restaurants, no anything for miles except for the one gas station they had passed on the main road. Drake pulled out his phone. No fucking service?!

"I'll take that." Ricardo took the cell phone from him, then slipped it into his own pocket.

"What the fuck?!"

"We're taking a break from all the stresses of the world, Drake. This is a time for peace and self-reflection."

"Why does Julio get to keep his phone?!"

"Because I'm not gonna be moping around and waiting by the phone all day hoping my ex girlfriend will call," Julio said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not," Drake said. He already hated it here. _Fuck it. I'm gonna ask._ "How long are we staying?"

"Why? You're in a rush to get back to your life of quick highs and dick-sucking?" Julio said harshly.

"Asshole."

"Wow, someone's grumpy today."

"Fuck you."

"Well, that depends. How much do you charge?"

"Guys, chill the fuck out," Ricardo interceded as he pulled out another key.

"You're such a prick," Drake said, hurt by his best friend's words.

Julio was quick to retort. "And you're a selfish piece of shit."

"You know what? Fuck this and fuck you." Drake turned and made his way back down the porch steps.

"Oh, yeah, go ahead and fucking run away just like you always do, you fucking pussy."

"Guys, stop!" Ricardo followed the boy down the steps and grabbed his arm. "Drake, come back."

"No, let him go." Julio was next to them in a second. "Let's see how long it takes him to blow someone for ten bucks and show back up here high out of his fucking mind."

"Don't fucking worry," Drake spat. "I would never come back here."

Julio was malicious. "You've said that a lot about using drugs, yet somehow you always end up in some stranger's bed with their dick in your mouth and your finger up their ass. Tell me, Drake, do you actually believe all the bullshit lies you tell? You think we don't know where the fuck you're going?"

Drake was livid and it showed on his face. "I hate you!" He was shaking with rage and, before he knew it, he had shoved Julio with all of his might, knocking him into his ass.

Infuriated by this, Julio bounced back onto his feet and punched him hard enough to make him fall. He was on top of him in an instant, hitting him with all of his might. Drake punched back. However, he was weakened by months of malnourishment, drug use, sleeplessness, homelessness and physical abuse.

"Enough!" Ricardo yelled. He was surprised how hard it was to peel Julio away from the other boy. He shoved him back, then stood in between them with his arms out to keep them from going at each other again.

Drake sat up, refusing to show the pain that doing so caused him. He turned and spat onto the grass and a string of blood left his lips. He wiped at his nose, smearing the endless stream of blood that was there.

Julio wasn't done. "Let's see someone accept your blowjob offer with that face."

Drake was on his feet in no time. He lunged at Julio, but was intercepted by Ricardo, who literally picked him up off of the ground and moved him away. "Fucking let me go!" He yelled so loudly and passionately that his voice squeaked.

However, Ricardo was the loudest of all. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" Finally, he put Drake on his feet. "Aren't you twenty-one years old?! Then fucking act like it! God, I'm surrounded by fucking children! You're _both_ assholes and you're _both_ fucking selfish! All I fucking wanted was for the three Santos brothers to come together and have a nice time and finally fucking heal from all the bullshit, AND YOU TWO DIPSHITS ARE GONNA DO THIS?! WHAT ABOUT ME?! HUH?! Drake, you're always fucking scheming and plotting ways to go out and ruin your life. Time after time, I HAVE GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING! When will it be enough for you?!"

Drake felt like he had been stabbed in the gut when he saw tears running down Ricardo's face. He was always the strong one and now, just like Drake had always anticipated, he'd reached his breaking point. He had snapped.

"And Julio," Ricky continued, "all you do is mope around and complain about meaningless bullshit! _'My life's a mess! I'm anxious and sad and I just wanna die,'_ " he said, imitating his brother. "BOO FUCKING HOO! I've never seen you do shit to even try to get better! You won't fucking meditate! You refuse to take the meds! All you do is lay around whining when all you have to do is get the fuck out of bed and fucking try! You both are so goddamn stuck on self-destructing and I can't fucking do this anymore! I've fucking had it with the both of you! I'M FUCKING DONE! So you go and do WHATEVER THE FUCK you want! You go back to laying in bed alone, Julio, and wondering why the hell your life is so fucking shitty!" He turned his hard gaze to Drake. "And you just fucking leave! Like you always do, no matter who the fuck it hurts because you're all that fucking matters, right?! Go find someone and let them fuck you, and then get high and spend the rest of your life wondering why everyone fucking leaves you!" Ricardo shrugged his shoulders, then shook his head to show that he didn't know what more he could do. His voice was quiet, but it came across as weak. "I'm fucking done." With that, he made his way back up the stairs, then he unlocked the lock and stepped inside the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him.

Drake and Julio stood there, both too stunned for words. Drake didn't know how the other boy was feeling, but he felt like he was going to cry or scream or panic or all three plus some.

 _You did this._ He felt so guilty that his chest was physically in pain and he wanted to throw up. _You are a selfish piece of shit._ He swallowed down the lump in his throat, but he still couldn't breathe. _You ruin everything._ Ricardo had never yelled at him before, and he found that his fingers were trembling. _You don't deserve these people._

"Where are you going?" Julio asked when Drake picked up his bag and turned around.

"Where the fuck do you think I'm going?" Bitterly, he used the same line that Julio had said to him earlier. "Gonna find a guy to blow so I can get the fuck out of here."

 _Kill yourself._

"Drake, just wait, okay?" Julio jogged after him. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did."

"I was just angry and it came out."

"Whatever. Just leave me the fuck alone, okay?"

"Let's just talk this out."

"I don't want to." His voice came out completely monotone. Moments ago, he had spewed pure rage and now he sounded completely dead inside. The logical, understanding and rational Drake was switched off, and now he was a mindless robot that was given instructions to get high or kill himself or just self-destruct in the worst and most spectacular way he possibly could. The truth is that he didn't know where he was going yet, but he knew that he'd never make it back here and he'd never see these people again once he was gone.

"I'm sorry about what I said. I was just hurt," Julio tried.

 _You've betrayed the only other person who had your back._

"I just get so upset when I see you do things that'll ruin your life. I don't want you to get hurt."

 _It's a shame your dad didn't finish what he'd started._

"Are you gonna keep ignoring me?"

 _Everyone would be better off if you didn't exist._

* * *

Julio was still following Drake by the time they made it to the gas station. It had taken about two hours on foot and Julio had finally stopped talking a long while ago and just tagged along in silence. Julio looked up from his feet and at his friend. Drake had stopped. He seemed to be observing every person in sight, using his "street smarts" to figure out who would be interested in what he had to offer and what they would be willing to give him in return. He was a completely different person. He was focused as if he was a hunter quietly stalking his prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce. This must be Addict Drake in action, and for the first time, Julio was witnessing it.

"Drake, this is fucking crazy-"

"Go back," the boy said, only half listening to him.

"They're gonna take one look at you and call the cops. You've got blood all over you."

Drake heard this. He opened his backpack, then pulled out a tee. He approached the gas pumps, then dumped his shirt in the water used to clean windshields. "Let me see your phone." After Julio gave it to him, he opened up the front-facing camera, then he started dabbing at his sore face with the wet cloth. The bruises weren't fixable, but he cleared away all the dried blood so that at least he looked semi-presentable.

Julio still had his reservations. "Please, just come back to the cabin."

Drake tossed his belongings back into the book bag, then looked at himself in the phone again. He combed his fingers through his hair, which the wind had messed up.

"Are you really trying to make yourself look cute for one of these guys right now?" Julio had never seen this side of Drake and he couldn't hide his shock and disgust.

Drake gave him his phone back. "Just go back to your fucking brother, alright?"

"He's your brother, too."

Drake rolled his eyes, then he made his way across the parking lot. He saw a man at the air pumps who was just finishing blowing up his tire. He had a short, scruffy, graying beard and a pair of faded blue overalls. He was a bit chubby, but not super overweight, and his skin was wrinkly due to working in the sun all his life. This is what Julio noticed anyway. Drake spotted different things. First was the discoloration on the fourth finger of his right hand, indicating that a wedding band had recently been removed. The license plate on the back of his old truck was from Arizona, further proving Drake's theory that the man had just divorced his wife and had traveled to the mountains for a relaxing getaway to be alone and "put things into perspective," as Ricardo had said. He was alone and depressed and Drake could give him exactly what he needed: a self-esteem-boosting, quick-but-effective blowjob, or a revenge-sex, freak-in-the-sheets fuck.

Julio reluctantly went after his friend. He missed the first part of their conversation, but he approached just as the man said, "The next Walmart is pretty far, and my truck takes a lot of gas. I'll give you the ride, but no extra cash. Is your friend coming, too?"

"No, he's no-"

"Yeah, I'm coming." Julio wasn't sure why he'd said this because he didn't plan on getting into a truck with a stranger. Somehow, he thought that maybe it would deter his friend from doing just that.

Drake looked at him hard, as if silently telling him to get lost.

"Alright, but I only have room for one of you up front." He looked at Julio. "You'll have to ride in the bed." He got inside, then cranked the truck.

Drake went around to the passenger's side, but Julio stopped him before he could open the door. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Stop fucking following me, okay?"

"Why are you doing this?" Julio begged.

"Because this is who I am, okay? This is who I've always been," Drake seemed just as desperate to explain himself as Julio was to understand him. "You both have tried and I'm so grateful for that, but clearly it hasn't worked out for any of us. It's been three years and not a goddamn thing has changed. I'm still an addict, you're still a big ball of depression and anxiety and Ricky is suffering because of us."

"Let's go back and support him."

"For what...Julio?! Don't you see? I'm never gonna stop being this way and you're never gonna stop being the way you are. He was right. Neither of us are changing and, no matter how many times we lie and convince ourselves that we're actually trying, we're not gonna get better."

The window started to roll down, and the stranger yelled over at Drake impatiently. "Hey, you coming or what?"

"Yeah." Drake opened the door, but Julio stopped him again.

"We can make this right."

"Look, Ricky has been pushed past his breaking point. I know because I've seen it before with my family. Like the piece of shit that I am, it's time to cut him loose and latch on to someone else to suck dry. Whether I mean to or not, it's what I do. Now I can finally admit it to myself."

"Drake..." Julio said desperately. His eyes had tears in them. "If you leave, you're gonna die. You're gonna overdose or get beaten up or freeze or starve. I don't want you to die. Please, _please_ , don't go."

"Don't worry about me, okay? Ricky needs you."

"He needs _you_."

"This is your last chance," the man in the truck said.

Drake looked at Julio apologetically and shrugged. "I'm sorry," he said as he got in the truck.

"Drake, please!"

The young man nodded at the driver after the stranger said something that Julio couldn't hear, then the truck started to move.

Drake let go of his breath. Now he was one step closer to Charlie...one step closer to active addiction...one step closer to homelessness. One step closer to loneliness. One step closer to living life in a dream state. One step closer to waking up covered in vomit. One step closer to motel rooms, parks and truck stops. One step closer to greedy hands, lust-filled eyes and objectifying himself for the benefit of others. One step closer to losing himself forever.

He looked out the rear view mirror and saw Julio standing on the side of the road, watching him go as tears ran down his face. When was the last time he had seen Julio cry? Possibly...never.

One step closer to Charlie.

But one step further from the people who loved him.

The truck was growing smaller and smaller to Julio, but he felt frozen in place. Drake had abandoned him plenty of times before for Triple C's, but this time was different. This time really felt like it would be the last time he ever saw his best friend again.

Julio looked on with disgust as the man driving the vehicle put his hand on the back of Drake's head, then pulled him down to his crotch. As the boy disappeared from view for the last time, Julio was overwhelmed with defeat. If only he had been able to stop him from leaving... If only he hadn't of started that fight... If only he understood addiction and could offer the help his friend needed...maybe things would've been different.

A pair of red break lights caught his attention. Way up ahead, the passenger's side door of the truck opened and, a second later, Drake was shoved onto the asphalt. There was yelling, but Julio was too far away to make out the words. Before he knew it, he found himself full-on sprinting towards his friend. As he approached, he heard a "You useless fuckin' whore!" before the truck sped off, its tires squealing loudly.

"Are you okay?!" Julio asked, squatting down next to the boy to check on him. He noticed a fresh river of blood pouring from his nose. "Jesus, what happened?!"

"I changed my mind," Drake said, pushing himself to his feet with Julio's help. "And that pissed him off and he wouldn't let me out, so I hit him, and then he smashed my face against the dashboard."

"What an asshole."

Drake looked at the top of his hand and saw that his knuckles were bleeding. He shook it as if this would make the pain go away. "God, I really wanted to get high," he admitted.

"Will you settle for a pack of cigarettes?" Julio asked when he saw his friend fidgeting with nerves.

Drake was craving a smoke, anything to calm him from the adrenaline rush. He nodded his head.

"Let's go back to the gas station and get you cleaned up."

* * *

"Ricky's gonna be so pissed that we left," Julio said. "He was probably thinking we were gonna immediately go in there and work things out."

Drake felt guilty because Julio had wanted to stay. He was the one who had messed it all up. "I don't know what I was thinking. Sometimes it's like my brain gets turned on autopilot. You know how it is. It starts with one bad thought and then everything you've ever worried or gotten upset about starts piling on until you just can't take it anymore."

"I know what you mean."

"Except you just kinda somehow manage to deal with it on your own and I've learned other ways to cope. It's just so fucked up," he said. "If you would've told me five years ago the kinds of things I would be doing to get high, I wouldn't have believed you. I just don't know how I let myself get to this point sometimes."

Julio noticed that his friend was constantly massaging his arms and wrists and back and, moments later, Drake spoke up. "Dude, I gotta stop."

"What's wrong?"

Drake weakly dropped onto his bottom, then leaned back and rested his head on the side of the road. "My whole body hurts."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I think because I took so many or something. This has never happened to me before. My joints feel like someone's crushing them with a hammer, and we're literally walking up a fucking mountain right now."

"You were hunched over your phone for hours on end during your high last night. That could be why if it's mostly in your arms and neck and back." Julio sat down next to him as the boy pulled out a cigarette. "We've gotta figure something out Drake. We can't keep going like this. My brother's strong, but it's not fair that we've become such a burden to him."

"I know."

"When I'm depressed, I have to actually try to make myself feel better instead of welcoming the dark thoughts, and when you wanna use — I mean, I honestly don't know much about how you're supposed to quit." Suddenly, he said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"And you'll be totally honest with me?"

Drake sat up and turned to his friend because his tone of voice sounded serious. "I mean, I might not answer it." Sometimes he was asked tough questions, but he hated lying, so this is how he responded. It was incredibly rare that he didn't respond to Julio or Ricardo. This was a tactic he had mainly used a lot with Rhinestone. Rhinestone was really bad about asking personal questions. He knew Drake's boundaries, but he lacked the consideration to respect them.

"Like, do you really want to get clean? Not, like, because getting clean is probably the best thing to do because everyone says so and, yeah, you can see it. But do you actually want to get clean because it's something that _you_ wanna do for _yourself_? Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I get it," Drake said. "I've messed up so much stuff for myself: my relationship with my family, my relationship with Meelah, with you and Ricky, with Clem. I know that I act like all of that is expendable and I'm always so quick to bounce back and adapt, but every single day, I think about my mom and my sister and Meelah. I've fucked up so many things for them and I know it's too late to go back and fix that. Not a day goes by without me wishing I had done things differently, but they're all gone and all I have is you and Ricky. I see myself repeating all of my mistakes and I just feel like — I don't know. I don't wanna say I can't help it. Those are all things I will live to regret for the rest of my life. I do genuinely want to get clean. I want nothing more than to make you and Ricky proud of me. You're the only ones who haven't given up on me."

"Because we love you."

"I think it's because you're both stubborn as fuck."

Julio's eyes went wide. "I know _you_ did not just say that."

As he exhaled a cloud of smoke, Drake's lips cracked into a smirk, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. "I don't know if I can do this," he admitted. "It's just always so much easier to get high, even for the most minor inconveniences. I've relapsed before during the three years that I was working on sobriety, but it would just be, like, one night, and then I'd tell you guys and, honestly, it wasn't that hard to keep myself from using again. I don't know what happened this time and why I let it get so bad, but during those two months, it's like I completely forgot everything I learned about how to stay clean — or like, I knew it, but I just wasn't doing it. I should've said something. I mean, I mentioned it to Ricky, but I could've done more, you know? It's just like there's this addict part of me that says, _'If that wasn't clear enough for them, then they obviously don't care if you go out and use,'_ and I know you both care. I just have all of these thoughts in the back of my mind. My dad used to be able to manipulate me into feeling some type of way, but now that he's gone, I'm doing it to myself. It's like I have a whole separate personality inside of me that knows how to control the weaker, sober one." He took a drag from his cigarette before more thoughts came to his head. "I mean, look where we are. What the fuck am I doing? I was so desperate for a fucking high, I didn't care what I had to do and what you fucking witnessed me doing." He looked down at the asphalt, which glistened in the sun. "I'm so embarrassed."

"It was like your body was taken over by someone else," Julio agreed. "I've heard you and my brother talk about it before, but I've never actually seen it."

"I don't know why I do these things. I just feel so ashamed about so much and still I keep piling things on. Mrs. Hayfer caught me jerking off for her husband, for fuck's sake. Every time I think about it, I just get so sick."

Julio could tell that Drake was trying not to cry. His eyes held back the tears, but his cracking voice gave him away when he spoke again.

"I don't wanna be like this forever."

"And you're not gonna be," Julio said. "You're, like, the strongest person I know. It probably doesn't feel that way to you, but look at all the shit you've gone through and had to deal with. You came out with a bit of a drug problem, yeah. But if it were me? I think I would've ended it a long time ago."

"I've tried. Twice."

"And thank God you can't do anything right," he joked to lighten the mood. His comment did earn a small smile from the boy. "No, for real, though, you're gonna get past all this bullshit and you're gonna grow up to be such a great person. You just have to figure out what you want and go after it. Like, I wanna open a little music shop and sell instruments and shit, and in the back, I'll have a room where I give out lessons and teach people how to play."

"You'd be good at that," Drake said.

"And you would, too. You just have to know what you want — what you love."

"I mean, I love you and I love Ricky, but as far as hobbies or any of that shit, I don't really love anything. When I started using, I stopped being passionate about music and started being passionate about getting high."

"Well, I mean, you haven't really picked up a guitar since you broke your wrist that second time." Or more correctly, since Martin had broken his wrist for the second time.

"They said I wouldn't be able to play," Drake said.

"But have you tried?"

Hesitantly, he replied with, "I guess not."

"So there you go. Or try something else. In that sequel to _Trainspotting_ book, Renton mentioned this exact same thing," he said.

Drake had been ordered to get a lot of bedrest after his most recent hospital stay. He didn't have much to do other than watch television and read. He'd finished Irvine Welsh's _Trainspotting_ , so now he was working on the sequel: _Porno_. Sometimes, Julio and Ricardo would have him read to them or tell them what was happening. Julio found the plot interesting, but couldn't be bothered to pick up the book. Ricardo, on the the other hand, actually enjoyed reading, but never had time.

Julio went on. "What was it he started doing instead of drugs? Karate, wasn't it?"

Drake let go of a laugh. "Yeah, because I don't get my ass kicked enough."

"You know what I mean. We can find something together. Let me be your main support and you can be mine and we'll give my brother a break from our bullshit." Suddenly, he said, "Running."

"Running?" Drake wasn't too enthusiastic about this.

"Yeah. I've always wanted to be one of those people that wake up before the sun and go out for a run."

"I hate running."

"Or something else," he said with a bit of irritation. "Jesus, Drake, at least try to come up with something."

"Sorry," Drake said defensively. "Running then. I'll do the running thing."

Julio smiled. "See? You're already making steps to better yourself. And that can be our thing, you know? We'll both begin our day with something positive and we can both encourage each other."

"Yeah, I guess, but I don't wanna be fucking running up and down this mountain."

"Me neither. We'll start when we get back home. Cool?"

"Sure." He still wasn't too enthralled about the energy he'd have to put into it, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit better about himself for setting a goal. "You ready to get back up to the cabin?"

"Yeah. You're good?"

"Yeah." Drake stood, then tossed his cigarette butt in the grass. "You know, in the film sequel, called _T2: Trainspotting_ instead of _Porno_ for obvious reasons, Renton takes up running instead of karate. Spud tries to kill himself because he's still addicted to heroin after twenty years and Renton makes him run up a mountain."

"I just can't believe you still haven't showed me this movie."

"I can't either," Drake said. "When I start working again, I'll buy it. We need to have a designated movie night and, each week, we'll switch who gets to pick the movie. I'll go first."

"Fuck that," Julio said.

"Bruh, just let me have this. You know you're gonna make us watch _Pineapple Express_ every time it's your week."

"It's better than the bullshit Ricardo picks. One day it'll be _Breakfast At Tiffany's_ and the next will be _Rebel Without A Cause_."

"Fuck off. Your brother's film taste is classy as fuck."

"All I'm saying is we should have some rules. Like, every week, he can't pick a movie that's older than all three of us combined, you can't pick a druggie film-"

"Fair."

"-and I won't pick all vulgar comedies," Julio continued.

"This is looking better already."

"Then it's settled."

"But first, we have to get him to forgive us," Drake reminded.

"True. And how do you propose we do this?"

After a moment of thinking, he shrugged and looked at his friend. "There's always groveling."

Julio nodded in agreement. "Groveling works."

* * *

Drake snapped awake when Julio hit his shoulder. He found himself leaning against the wall outside of Ricardo's room. Since the door was locked, they hadn't been able to get inside to talk to him. Still feeling fatigued from the previous night's Triple C use, Drake had dozed off where he was sitting. He looked over at Julio, who was on the opposite side of the door, then he noticed Ricardo standing in between them, looking down at them with confusion.

Julio was the first to speak. "He's not high. He was just tired."

"I didn't use," Drake agreed. "I wanted to, but your annoying ass brother wouldn't stop nagging me."

"We just wanted to say that we're sorry." Julio stood, so Drake followed.

"Yeah, we know we're a fucking handful and it's not fair that you're always the one who has to deal with our bullshit. We'll stop bothering you so much about it."

Ricardo spoke up. "I didn't mean that you guys couldn't come to me about it. I definitely still wanna keep the lines of communication open because that's so important. I just feel like you're not trying sometimes."

"And you're right," Julio said. "Drake and I talked things out. We're gonna start relying on each other more. We set a goal to go for a run every morning to start our day with encouragement and positivity."

"I never meant to be a burden," Drake said. "I know I have to start taking care of myself and making the decision to get clean and stay that way on my own. I wanna figure this shit out and be someone you can be proud of again."

"I didn't mean to yell at you guys," the man said. It was pretty rare for him to yell at either of them, so he felt horrible about it.

"Don't worry about it," Julio said.

Drake agreed. "You had every reason to. We never stopped to think about how our constant negativity was dragging you down. It's good that everything's out in the open now."

"I just don't want you to shut down and feel like you can't talk to me," Ricardo said again.

"We'll never leave you out of the loop," his brother reassured.

"We're just really sorry," Drake added. "You should be able to come to us with your shit just as much as we complain to you. When Julio starts annoying the piss out of you, you can just come to me and be like, _'Drake, I fucking hate my brother,'_ and I'll be like, _'Yeah, I feel you.'_ "

"You bitch," Julio said, and although he looked shocked, he understood that his friend was making a joke because Drake had a hard time staying serious for too long. "You're more annoying than Ricardo and me combined."

"Yeah, well...probably."

"Oh, definitely," Ricardo corrected with a smile.

Drake scrunched his eyebrows up. "Are you fucking serious right now? You blast the shittiest trap music I have ever heard and refuse to let anyway else touch the radio."

Julio crossed his arms as he nodded and leaned against the doorframe. "This is true."

Ricardo put his hand over his heart and scoffed. "I am hurt."

"I'm just saying. Maybe Julio and I wouldn't be so fucking miserable all the time if you let someone else pick the music for a change."

"Mmm, no." Ricky shook his head.

"Prick."

Drake turned and started making his way to the kitchen and the other boys followed. Just like that, things were okay again. Just the three Santos brothers bickering about music. This was the most bit of normalcy Drake had felt all day.

Ricardo continued. "And what? I should spend an entire car ride listening to fuckin' — what's their name? ...The Rasmus?"

"Don't you dare talk shit about The Rasmus," Julio said. "Even Drake likes them."

"I know, like, three songs," the boy said with a shrug as he opened the refrigerator, only to find it empty. "Two are tolerable; one is good." Next, he looked in the pantry.

"Oh, I forgot. Drake likes Miley Cyrus," Julio teased.

"Why do you have to do that? You pick the one embarrassing thing I listen to — which is still good music by the way."

Ricardo spoke up, "Julio, what the fuck are you talking about? I've heard you listening to Miley in the shower."

"It was Drake's mixed CD. I didn't know what was on it," he said defensively.

"Bullshit. You were singing so loud that I could hear you from downstairs. You knew all the words."

"Are we gonna do dinner anytime soon, or like...?" Drake hadn't eaten all day and half of yesterday, and it was starting to catch up to him. Unfortunately, he couldn't find anything at all in the kitchen.

"Fuck off," Julio continued. " _Wrecking Ball_ 's just a catchy song. Everyone knows the words. I've heard you sing it before, too."

Drake hopped up onto the counter as they continued arguing. "Bruh, I'm fucking starving."

"What's that other shit you listen to?" Ricardo snapped his fingers as if that would help him remember better. "The Illuminators."

"The Lumineers is not shit," Julio said.

It was like Drake was watching a tennis match when the two brothers started going at it. For a while, he let them carry on as he took turns between picking at his nails and then biting them, but eventually, his hunger got the best of them. "Jesus, shut the fuck up already. I'm gonna die if I don't eat." This got their attention.

"You're so dramatic," Julio said.

"There's nothing here," said Ricardo. "We were supposed to unpack and then pick up some stuff from the grocery store."

"Is that little store even open? It's already dark."

"Oh, fucking hell." Drake slid off of the counter and onto his feet.

"I think so. I don't know. We better leave now, though, if we're going tonight," Ricky said.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm definitely going, even if I have to walk." He immediately opened the door and went outside.

Ricardo made sure his keys and wallet were in his pocket, then he, too, walked out the door with his brother trailing behind him. He turned to Julio. "I'm about to blast my _'shitty'_ trap music so fucking loud. Drake's gonna be so pissed."

* * *

"Jesus, that is a ridiculous amount of cheese you're putting on that pizza," Ricardo said.

Drake replied with, "Make your own. I'm gonna eat this whole thing by myself."

"I'm gonna go unpack while you cook," Julio said. Before he left the kitchen, he reminded, "I don't like olives."

Drake rolled his eyes. He didn't like olives either, but he was serious when he said he didn't want to share his pizza. He grabbed the can of pineapple he had slipped into the cart at the store, then he used the tab to pull open the lid.

"You're for real putting pineapple on it?" Ricardo said.

He belonged to the half of the world who believed that pineapple had no business being on a pizza. Although he was putting a lot of toppings on his pizza, Drake knew that his tastebuds still weren't working at a hundred percent because of the Triple C's. Pineapple was such a strong and juicy flavor. It was the best thing to eat on the days after drug use, he'd found.

"Bruh, for real, make your own. I haven't eaten since yesterday." He didn't mean to sound rude. He was just being honest, but he got kind of cranky when he was hungry. On top of that, he was irritable because his friend had loudly played his shitty music the whole way to the store and back.

"I asked you in the car on the way up here this morning if you wanted something when me and Julio got Burger King." Nevertheless, he grabbed another bag of pizza dough from the refrigerator and got the necessary items out to roll it.

"You know I wasn't hungry earlier," Drake said. He was never hungry for most of the day after Triple C's and Ricardo knew this because, years ago when the man had expressed his skepticism about Drake's sobriety, Drake had told him all the signs to look out for: loss of appetite, extreme fatigue, monotony, etcetera.

"You okay?" Ricardo asked hesitantly. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Drake's clear annoyance.

"I'm fine," he said as he began chopping up an onion for his pizza.

The man started flattening out the dough, but he kept his eyes on his friend. "Julio told me a lot of shit happened after the fight." Even though Drake was looking at his pizza, Ricardo saw the humiliation flash across the boy's face. He quickly added, "We don't have to talk about it. I just wanted to say that I'm glad you decided to come back."

"Thank you." It came out emotionless because, now that he didn't have the Triple C's to numb him, he knew that, if he let his guard down right now, he would be a crying wreck.

"You could've easily kept going and left for good. I know it's pretty rough having to start over again. I'm really proud of you and I'm so thankful you stayed because I truly do value your friendship."

 _Fuck, here it comes._ Drake sniffled before the first teardrop glided down his cheek. More followed. He put down the knife and turned, then leaned his elbows on the island and hid his face in his hands.

"What's wrong?" Ricardo asked kindly.

Another sniffle. "The onion's burning my eyes," was his excuse. However, his crying got harder.

The man put down the rolling pin, then joined his friend. He put his hand on his shoulder and stayed that way for a couple minutes, offering silent support. Drake was so grateful for his quickness to forgive him and he felt like he owed him an explanation.

"I just wanna get high so bad," he choked.

Ricardo remembered when Drake had first cleaned up three years ago. Nights were always the hardest, his friend had told him. He used to lay with him most nights of the week until he cried himself to sleep. Maybe it was time to go back to the old way of doing things: bars on the bedroom window, door locked from the outside, a heavily enforced bedtime and a friend glued to his hip. At least for a little while.

Or maybe not. Maybe Drake needed his space. Maybe he needed to do this himself. However, Ricardo feared that his friend would give up too easily if he wasn't there to make him stay clean when he felt powerless to his addiction.

"Let's try to take your mind off of it. We'll cook the pizzas and then we can all sit down and have dinner and watch a movie together. Julio got a few horror films from Redbox: _Happy Death Day_ , _Unsane_ , the _It_ remake. And I made sure to get that new Aronofsky film you kept talking my ears off about."

Drake's heart felt so full because Ricardo was trying so hard and he even remembered who his favorite director was.

"Or we can do board games instead. I know there's some in a closet here somewhere. Maybe that'll distract you better."

"Thanks," Drake said, wiping his eyes as he straightened. "You're always so supportive during my meltdowns. God, I just wish I could stop crying all the time like a little bitch."

"There's nothing wrong with crying. You've seen me cry before — today even — and I'm tough as shit."

Drake rolled his eyes and, just like that, they were back to light-hearted jokes. "I'm gonna go smoke." He needed a little extra help calming his nerves. "Can you put my pizza in when you finish yours?"

"Yeah."

* * *

They had all finished their pizzas except for Drake, who, as it turned out, wasn't as hungry as he had thought. He never was, though. If he wasn't occupied by something whilst eating, usually, he would start thinking himself into a depression episode and lose his appetite. This time, however, he was distracted by a movie, so his lack of hunger was only caused by his previous night's drug use. He'd scarfed down three slices and instantly regretted eating the last. Eating fast always fucked with his nerves somehow, so he'd paused the flick to take a cigarette break. During which, he'd vomited. This kind of thing happened on occasion. He wasn't bulimic or anything. It's just that sometimes his anxiety and depression gets the best of him and makes him actually physically sick.

They were watching Darren Aronofsky's _Mother!_ This was the one Ricardo had specifically picked out for Drake. Julio wasn't into it, but he pretended to be for his friend's sake. Truth be told, Ricardo didn't know exactly what was happening either, but he did genuinely find it interesting. These were Drake's favorite kinds of films (other than druggie flicks). He always fell in love with the movies you had to watch more than once to understand.

One thing that Ricardo had learned about Drake was that he loved movies — not nearly as much as music, but it was close. Some things the man had used to distract Drake from drugs when he'd first moved in and cleaned up three years ago were movie marathons. Drake had picked it up almost like a hobby, which went away a little bit after he got a job and a girlfriend. He liked to have discussions after films and Ricardo always encouraged that just like he encouraged anything Drake did that wasn't drug-related.

Maybe Drake just liked the idea of getting away. When he got lost in a movie, he could pretend that he was the main character and whatever happened to them was happening to him. Maybe their shitty situations looked more interesting to him than his own. This theory doesn't explain his attraction to drug films like his all time favorite movie _Requiem For A Dream_ , another Aronofsky masterpiece. How could the heroin addicts in that film have a better life than him? Maybe he watched movies to relate and feel a part of something. Or maybe he loved drug flicks because he still, despite everything, found that sort of lifestyle to be more appealing.

Maybe this was all shit. With a lot of movies, Drake focused on the writing and directing and acting styles rather than the story itself. Whatever it was, Ricardo wanted to support it. Despite the fact that the boy could go annoyingly overboard and talk for hours on trivial things like why the director chose to zoom into a certain object and what he wanted to portray with it, Ricky was glad to see that little bit of life return to Drake's eyes. Maybe his captivation of questioning things and breaking them down could even become a passion. God knows that Drake needed one. He needed something to keep him busy, something that meant something to him, something that was worth staying sober for.

Then again, maybe movies aren't Drake's thing. That's okay. There was something else out there, though, and Ricky was always going to be there to support it.

The oldest Santos brother looked over at Drake when he saw movement out of the corner of his vision. The boy was wiping fervently at the tears that were escaping his eyes. He was trying his best to be silent and he had been doing a good job because he'd started crying almost fifteen minutes ago, but now he was caught and he knew it, so Drake sniffled all the snot that had gathered up in his nostrils. Julio pulled his eyes away from the screen and looked at his friend.

"You alright?" Ricardo asked.

Drake's voice cracked. "I don't know why I'm crying."

He felt pathetic. He often had these so-called "crying spells" out of nowhere and he hated them. He felt like less of a man because of them. His father used to do violent and perverted acts towards him and, more than half of the time, he had remained emotionless. Back then, though, he was using Triple C's everyday. He had been numbed and lived in a constant dream state for a good bit of his late teenage/early adult years. Now it was a miracle for him to get through the day without crying at least once. He'd never learned useful ways to cope without drugs — not any that actually helped him anyway. Luckily, Ricky and Julio never teased him — not seriously anyway. Martin would have.

"Why don't we take a break from the movie and finish it later?" Ricardo suggested.

He was honestly confused as to why his friend was crying. Nothing was happening that was really worth the tears. He didn't think so anyway. Things were different with Drake, though. Just like with the music he chose to listen to, they had to be careful about what movies Drake watched. There were so many things that could trigger him — a few being drugs (obviously), cruel and torturous violence and rape or a sexual assault of some kind. Sometimes, these things couldn't be avoided, though, and some of Drake's favorite movies and shows included these things. Sometimes, he was okay. Other times, he would look away or leave the room or fast-forward through the hard-to-handle bits. It all just depended on the day and his mood.

There was quite a bit of violence going on in the film at the moment. It had come out of nowhere and it made no sense to Ricardo whatsoever. However, it had Drake in tears.

"No, it's okay," Drake answered. To be honest, he was just as confused as the other two boys. He knew that what was happening in the film was all symbolic and it all meant something important, and he'd watch an " _Ending Explained_ " video on YouTube afterwards if he still couldn't piece it together when it was over. Maybe one day, he'll have seen so many of these movies and looked up what they meant that he could start to solve the puzzle himself. "I don't know what the fuck is happening, but I can feel it, you know?" he tried to explain so that he could convince Ricardo not to turn off the movie so close to the end.

The two boys didn't know what he meant, though. Neither of them felt anything really. Well, except utter confusion. Drake, on the other hand, was feeling what Jennifer Lawrence's character must be feeling. He felt betrayed, he felt unimportant, he felt worthless, he felt unloved. He was good at being empathetic for this protagonist in particular because he had felt all of these emotions in his own life. Sometimes, he still does.

"I just wish her husband would listen to her and make all those people leave," he said.

"Yeah, this movie makes me anxious as fuck," Julio agreed. "These people are so fucking rude. Who just enters someone's home and starts destroying shit? I literally would start killing people at this point." He put his eyes back on the television.

"You sure you're good?" Ricardo asked.

"Yeah. This is definitely one of my new favorite movies," Drake said.

"You just said that you had no idea what was happening."

"But I can feel it. That's what's important."

* * *

"Wakey wakey."

Drake opened his eyes to see Julio. "Mmm," he groaned.

"Time to get up."

"Time is it?"

"Like, don't ask me that because you're gonna get pissed."

"Mmm, fuck off." Drake turned his head and closed his eyes again.

"Come on. Get up," Julio urged.

Drake gave no response.

"My brother said that if you're not up by the time he's finished getting dressed, he's gonna pour water on you."

Drake believed him because Ricardo had done this to him on a couple of occasions before. He groaned as he grumpily looked up at his friend. "What the fuck does he want?"

"Did he get up?" It was Ricky, who had just entered the living room.

"I'm up," the boy said, his voice filled with annoyance. "What the fuck?" he asked again.

"Get dressed. We're going for a hike."

Drake was stupefied. "Are you fucking kidding me?" His voice slurred from tiredness. "You woke me up this fucking early to walk up a fucking mountain? The fuck is wrong with you?" Drake closed his eyes again and nestled his head into the pillow.

"Get up," Ricardo said, yanking the blanket away from the boy.

Drake pretended like he was unbothered although he was pissed. "Fuck off. I'm not going."

The two left him alone for a while as they filled their backpacks with snacks, a breakfast, water bottles and other hiking necessities. When they came back, Drake was asleep again, but Ricardo was prepared this time.

"HUUUH!" When Drake realized he wasn't drowning, he tried to calm his heart rate. He was sitting up now, and he was soaking wet. "THE FUCK?!" he screeched.

The other two boys laughed hysterically.

"God, I fucking hate you both!" He wiped off his face.

"Oh, good, you're up," Ricardo said. "And you don't even need to shower. You're welcome."

"Fuck you."

"Get dressed. We're leaving in ten." With that, he was gone.

"Fucking asshole." Drake flinched as he put his feet on the floor, his eyes half closed still. When he stood, he winced.

"You good?" Julio asked.

Drake massaged his shoulder as he moved it in a circular motion. "I feel like I got hit by a fucking train."

Although it was the same feeling he'd had all day yesterday, which was somehow caused — he was sure of it — by the drugs he'd used the night before, Julio assumed it was because he'd slept uncomfortably. "Why'd you sleep on the couch?"

"Couldn't sleep," Drake said, rubbing the inner fold of his elbow. "So I watched that movie again."

"You watched a whole movie? Shit, so you probably got, what, two hours of sleep?"

"Two hours? What fucking time is it?"

"Four."

"What the fuck? Is this a fucking joke?"

"He wants us to watch the sunrise from the top of the mountain."

"What the fuck?" He couldn't stop responding this way. Again, he was getting angry. However, he knew he couldn't fight it unless he wanted to wake up in another pool of ice cold water. "This is so fucking stupid." He had to practically drag himself into the room that he was staying in. He still hadn't unpacked, so he opened his bag and reached for some clothes, only to find that the shirt on top had a mixture of dried spit and blood and toothpaste. "What the fuck?" Apparently, he didn't remember brushing his teeth in Ricardo's car on the way here and thinking he had nowhere to spit.

Drake absently threw on something that would keep him warm, brushed his teeth, then combed through his hair. After that, he made his way into the kitchen and took the cup of coffee that Julio offered him. It was lukewarm and black, just the way he liked it.

Ricardo entered the kitchen as he zipped up his jacket. "Why'd you sleep on the couch?" he asked, picking up one of the apples that was in the decorative bowl on the center of the island.

"Why'd you wake me up so fucking early?" he snapped back.

He was obviously still pissed. Ricky was used to it, though. He always had to deal with a grumpy Drake when he woke him up for work.

"Stop whining," the man said.

"And chill with the fucks," added Julio.

Ricardo handed Drake a book bag. "We packed you some shit."

Drake retorted with, "If it's not a pillow and blanket, then I don't give a shit."

Ricardo rolled his eyes. "Just put it on." He looked at his brother. "You got everything you need?"

With a confirmation nod, the three headed into the night sky.

* * *

Drake had trudged up the mountain, and despite his slow pace, Julio and Ricardo stayed by his side. It was probably one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do in his life. He didn't know why he was hurting so badly. This whole thing where Charlie left his joints in pain on the day after using was new to him and the fact that it had lasted two days was ridiculous. Imagine sleeping wrong and waking up with a crick in your neck and not being able to turn your head without feeling pain. Now amplify that quite a bit and picture that feeling all over every joint and muscle in your entire body. That's the best way he could think of to describe it to his two hiking buddies. Drake kept flipping back and forth between wishing he was high so that the drugs could numb him and help him walk up the slope with ease and regretting having ever taken the pills in the first place.

He kept asking for a break, but they were racing against the sun, so the two boys encouraged him to keep moving. He'd even begged a couple of times, but they wouldn't let him stop. Ricardo did take his bag to remove some of the extra weight he was carrying.

"This is why drugs are bad," Julio said. He kind of enjoyed getting to tease him.

"Fuck you." Although it was all light-hearted and friendly, Drake wasn't in the mood. He looked at the oldest. "You told me yesterday that this was supposed to be a relaxing vacation and not a punishment."

Ricardo shrugged innocently. "Well, I mean..."

"This could be our new tradition," said Julio. "Next time you relapse, we'll just come back out here and climb up the mountain again. I think it's doing you some good. Just fifteen minutes ago, you were swearing up and down that you'd never use again. That's progress."

Drake abruptly dropped onto his knees at this. He caught himself with his hands just before he landed face-first in the dirt. "Guys, I'm serious. I fucking can't."

Ricardo opened Drake's backpack and pulled out a bottle of water. He passed it to him. Drake's fingers ached when he wrapped them around the bottle. He imagined that this is what it would feel like for an old, brittle, dried tree to have its withered and frail branches snapped off, if only a tree had nerves. His fingers hurt gripping the plastic, his arm hurt lifting it over his mouth, his neck hurt tilting his head back.

"You two just go. I'll just wait here."

"You're giving up then?" Ricardo asked.

"Look, I'm really hurting, okay?"

"Who's fault is that?" Julio wasn't being rude when he said it.

"I know it's my fault. I fucked up and I regret that, but this is just too much."

Julio squatted down in front of him. "What about when life becomes too much. You're just gonna give up then, too?" He didn't wait for an answer. "No. You're not. I won't let you. We're gonna keep pushing and give it everything we've got."

Drake was beginning to believe that he was speaking in metaphors now, but he was too exhausted to understand the magnitude of his friend's words. He got the gist of it, though.

"So you take a few minutes, but then you're gonna get up and we're gonna get to the top of this mountain together. You got that?"

Drake wasn't scared of him, but there was something about a firm, confident and authoritative voice that made him listen. It was like when Martin or Coach Tad told him to do something, only this time, it was something beneficial for himself. Although he knew that Julio wasn't going to hurt him like a lot of the other men in Drake's life, there was something in his strict voice and stern gaze, and he didn't dare disobey him — not for fear of what Julio would do to him, but because he genuinely wanted to make his friend proud of him and he wanted to be proud of himself.

"Okay," Drake said.

Ricardo was surprised that that had worked. He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder to let him know that he'd done a good job. He then looked down at Drake, who was still sitting on the dirt trail. "You want a granola bar? It'll give you some energy."

Drake declined. "No, can you hand me a cigarette?"

"You sure? That's kinda counter-productive."

Drake nodded, then took one after Ricardo grabbed the pack from his bag. He lit it, then passed the lighter back to the man so that he wouldn't lose it. "Thanks," he said as he exhaled.

Julio sat down, too, then placed his own bag on his lap, unzipped it and grabbed his water.

"How much longer?" Drake asked.

"I'm not sure," said Ricardo. "I haven't been up here in years. It looks like we've got about thirty-five — maybe forty minutes — until the sun comes up. I think we'll get there before then."

* * *

What they didn't tell him was that the mountain got much steeper towards the top. There were places along the trail where they all actually had to do a bit of climbing. He wasn't crying, but a quiet sob left Drake's lips as he used the muscles in his arms to heft himself up onto a rock that was at the same height as his belly button. He felt his shoulder blades exploding with pain, but he kept pushing, just like Julio had told him to.

The next and final rock they came to was taller than Drake. Ricardo instructed them to lift him up, so the two boys positioned themselves in front of the rock wall and cupped their hands to boost him. Once Ricardo was up, Julio allowed Drake to go next since he was hurting. Drake was hoisted up, then Ricky grabbed his hand and pulled him the rest of the way. The young man helped lift himself up, then he and the oldest both reached their arms down. Julio took a bit of a running start, then jumped and grabbed on so that they could pull him up. After that, Drake rolled into his back and massaged his shoulders.

"You alright?" Julio asked, taking out his water and squirting some into his mouth.

Drake was panting for air, but he managed to get out a, "Yeah." Despite the chilly weather, he was sweating.

"You need a second?" Ricardo asked.

"How much further?"

"I don't think it's long. If I'm remembering right, it should be right past those trees up there." He nodded his head forwards.

"Nah, I'm good." He stretched out his arm, and Julio gripped his hand and helped him to his feet.

Ricardo's memories had proved to be correct when they maneuvered through the trees. Three minutes later, they entered a clearing and found themselves at the highest point of the mountain. It was still dark overhead, so they could see the lights from cars and stores in the distance. Ricardo wrapped an arm across Drake's shoulders and messed up his hair. He wore a huge smile on his face and it made Drake smile, too.

"Wooooo!" Julio yelled as he looked down at the world below him. He had his arms outstretched king-of-the-world style.

When Ricardo joined his brother's celebration, Drake took a seat on a nearby rock. He opened his bag and pulled out his cigarettes and water. He desperately needed a smoke and a drink. He gulped down a good bit of water first, then lit up. It wasn't until he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and tried to light it that he realized his hands were shaking, which they sometimes did if he was scared, anxious, cold, or if he just overly-exerted himself. This time, it was probably caused by the last two. Although he was sweating like crazy, it was still February. On top of that, they were on a mountain. Drake could practically see his breath leave his lips.

Although he wasn't as visibly ecstatic as Julio and Ricardo, he felt really proud of himself that he made it to the top of the mountain. He was tired as shit, but it was still kind of worth it.

 _Why? It's not like you did anything great. You climbed up a fucking hill. Whoopdi-fucking-doo._

Drake lowered his head and closed his eyes, then massaged his temple as if that would force the unmistakable sound of his father's unimpressed voice to leave. _Please, not now._

 _You think just because you made it up this mountain, it all of a sudden means you're not a pathetic addict anymore? That's bullshit. You're still gonna want to use every single day and you will eventually relapse. What's the fucking point?_

 _Stop. Just think positive. Don't ruin this, Drake._

 _Don't ruin this like you ruin literally everything else? Ha! Fat chance._

 _You made it all the way up this mountain. You didn't think you could do it, but you did._

 _And what does that prove exactly?_

 _It proves... What did Julio say it proves again? What does walking up a mountain have to do with getting sober? Fuck, I'm never gonna be able to stay clean._

 _Exactly. You're gonna go right back to fucking strange men for money, you disgusting skank. I only wish I was alive to fucking see it in person, sorry piece of shit._

 _Just stop._ Drake's hands shook even more now, this time from the two other reasons on the list: fear and nerves. He took a quivering puff from his cigarette, then ran his trembling fingers through his hair.

 _How could you do that? I mean, I knew you were a worthless mutt who would never amount to anything, but to let yourself get that fucking low? I never would've expected that, even from_ you.

 _I didn't mean for things to get that bad._

 _But go ahead and tell yourself you actually achieved something by climbing this mountain. All of a sudden, it made you a changed man, right? Now you've got a clean slate. You never sucked all those dicks, let all those men touch you, bent over and spread your cheeks for them. You made it to the top of this mountain, so all that has gone away now, right?_

Drake could feel his eyes welling up with tears.

 _Just give it up, Drake. You're never gonna clean up._

 _Maybe if I could somehow get Ricky's keys-_

 _That's right._

 _-and then I can disappear without them noticing me._

 _Mm-hmm._

 _I'll have a head start down the mountain and I can just borrow-_

 _This is stealing, but continue. I'm intrigued._

 _I'll just take the car for...an hour — two hours tops. Just long enough to find the nearest Walmart or Dollar General or something._

 _They're gonna be really pissed, Drake. They planned this whole thing for you._ Drake's inner addict, which disguised itself with Martin's voice, didn't really care about these facts, and now, Drake was starting to not care either.

 _I never asked for this. I never wanted to come here._

 _You're really going to hurt their feelings, though. Here, I have a better plan. Why don't you get up, walk over to the edge and just fling yourself over? Just fucking end it, you hopeless junkie._

 _Fuck, Drake, why are you like this?_

"Come on. What are you doing?" Julio called. "Let's celebrate." When Drake lifted his head, Julio saw that his friend was crying. He smile immediately faded as he jogged over to him. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I just need to go."

"Go where?"

Drake didn't answer, but by his silence, Julio knew what he meant.

"Drake..."

"I'm sorry, okay? Just ignore me. I'm not gonna use." He honestly didn't want to, but he wasn't sure if he could hold this one out or not. He wanted to try, though.

Ricardo had joined them now. He took a seat next to Drake while Julio squatted in front of him.

"What happened just now?" Julio asked. "You were just super excited about reaching the top of the mountain two seconds ago, and now you're upset and on the verge of a relapse before you've even finished a cigarette."

"I don't know." Drake hung his head. He was suddenly ashamed to let himself cry in front of them although he had done it a thousand times before for reasons way less severe than this.

"Talk to us." Ricardo rubbed his shoulder.

"I just hear his voice sometimes. Like, I could hear what he would've said if he were here." They knew who he was talking about without him having to tell them. His voice cracked. "I just feel like it's never gonna end and I just wanna die sometimes." He let go of a couple sobs after saying this out loud.

Ricardo sighed as he pulled Drake into a half-hug and looked down at his brother with a worried expression. He had no idea what to do anymore. He'd tried everything that he could think of. He'd given Drake a hard task, and the boy had actually completed it. He'd climbed up a fucking mountain while going through drug withdrawals, and even still, that wasn't enough to hinder Drake's mind from tearing him apart from the inside out. He needed help — like, actual help.

Julio was thinking along the same lines. "Look, Drake, I know my brother brings this up a lot and it annoys you, but I really, really think it's time that you give counseling a chance. Or just start with a psychiatrist. They're too busy to let you get personal anyway. They talk to you for five minutes, give you a prescription, and then you're on your way. It's really not that bad. I went to one. I just hate taking medicine." Julio's voice was soft and kind. "But you can't keep going on like this. These thoughts that keep taking over your mind — they're not healthy and they're not normal. You're my best friend, and I hate seeing you sad all the time."

Ricardo spoke up. "We're doing everything we can, but what you went through — what you're going through — it could take years of professional therapy. We're not trying to get rid of you. We just want you to be happy again."

Through his weeping, Drake said, "I know you're right. I'm just embarrassed and scared."

"There's no need to be embarrassed. This is what therapists deal with on a daily basis."

"Why are you scared?" Julio asked.

"I don't want them to lock me up somewhere."

He remembered when he was younger and his mom had him committed to a mental hospital after she found out he had cut himself. It had just been an experimental cut out of curiosity. When he was younger, the kids at school who wore an excessive amount of black clothing and a lot of hairspray in their hair to hold up their "emo" and "scene" styles and had Escape The Fate and Black Veil Brides songs on their MySpace page would brag about cutting themselves. They'd talk about how good it felt and, upon hearing that, Drake's interest had peaked. At this time in his life, he was thirteen. The divorce was still pretty fresh and his father was constantly hitting him and putting him down every chance he got. Drake had been desperate to feel good again, but cutting didn't do that for him. Despite his attempt at hiding it, his mom had seen the deep cut and, before he knew what was happening, he found himself in a mental hospital.

He'd spent a good bit of time in solitary confinement because he acted out, misbehaved and cussed out two of the night nurses, who were complete pricks by the way. Solitary confinement was a tiny room with blue padding on a small portion of the floor. It wasn't like in the movies where the entire floor and walls were covered — not the place he was in anyway. There was a door with a small window and he could occasionally see someone checking in on him to make sure he hadn't smashed his own head to bits. It had been hell, and what was worse was his stay at his father's after he had been released.

"I'm sorry, Ricky," Drake said. "I didn't wanna ruin this for you."

"Don't worry about it," the man said. "You didn't ruin anything."

"Will you still make that appointment for me?" He was finally taking the man up on what he had offered before his big relapse.

"Of course," he said. "I'll start looking for a place today." When Drake sat up straight, Ricardo brushed his bangs out of his face, then rested his hand on his shoulder.

"You can go back to celebrating. I'll stop crying in a minute." Drake wiped the water away from his eyes.

"We'll wait," Ricky said.

"And fuck whatever your dad would say," Julio added. "I mean, he was kinda shit anyway."

"I guess."

Drake knew that what his father had done to him was wrong, but there were times when he felt like maybe he deserved it. He had hurt too many people and Martin had been the only person who ever punished him for it. Despite everything, a part of his family was gone and he missed him dearly. Just because he was a psycho, alcoholic murderer/rapist, it didn't make it any easier to lose him. He was still his dad and, before things had turned to shit, Martin had raised him. He took care of him, helped him with homework, played basketball with him, let him stay up and watch scary movies after Audrey had gone to sleep, then let him crawl into their bed later that night when he complained about nightmares. He wasn't always a bad person. He just got lost somewhere in his addiction and rage. Drake understood that, but he was lost in different ways. The only person he had ever hit was Meelah. It was one time — when she had flushed his pills — and he's regretted it ever since. Instead, he hurt people unintentionally, but it was still a great pain all the same.

* * *

"I don't know what you're talking about," Julio said. "I would a hundred percent win in a fight."

"That's such bullshit!" Ricky argued. "Are you kidding me? Out of us three? You think you would win?"

"I know I would win."

The man laughed incredulously. "Drake, break the tie. My idiot brother has lost his fucking mind."

"He's just gonna say himself and make it a three-way tie," Julio said.

"Nah, I've had my ass kicked by both of you before," the boy said. "I know I wouldn't win."

"My brother beat you up?" Julio asked, his attention now redirected.

"Oh, yeah. Several times."

Ricardo disagreed. "I beg to differ. I beat you up one time. The other times, I was just...knocking some since into you. It wasn't that bad. I'm your older brother. It's what I do."

Julio said, "Now I do remember you picking Drake up from Tad's right before he overdosed and he had a couple bruises on his face."

"Yeah, that was me knocking some since into him."

"Well, shit, what do you call actually beating him up?"

Drake answered. "It was when he found out I had moved back in with my dad after the first time he put me in the hospital. He was pissed that I went back and I was so fucking stubborn, I just kept smiling. Blood was pouring down my face, but I was smiling. He finally left, I started crying and then my dad came in and was like _'Let's get drunk.'_ I woke up two days later with no memory of anything, then I overdosed on a bunch of shit I didn't remember taking. It was Megan's birthday."

"Fuck," Julio said.

Ricardo interrupted their conversation. "Alright, alright. Never — hush."

"Rude," Julio said. "I wanted to hear the story."

"Whatever," Drake said. "I don't even like to think about it anyway."

Ricardo continued. "Okay, never have I ever drank so much that I blacked out."

While Drake swallowed some of his beer, Julio said, "The fuck do you mean? You work at a bar for Christ's sake."

"I'm responsible," Ricardo said.

"I call bullshit."

"I'm serious."

Julio squinted his eyes skeptically, but he took a sip anyway. He was on his second, Ricardo was on his third and Drake was working on his fourth. It was around ten or eleven at night and they were all sitting around the living room in the cabin. Drake was on the floor. He struggled to keep his eyes open since he had gotten up so early, but he was having a good time and he didn't want it to end.

Julio took his turn. "Never have I ever had a wet dream about a guy."

Both the other boys drank. Julio was shocked when he saw Drake turn the bottle over his lips, but even more baffled when his brother did the same.

"What?!"

"It was around the time I first hit puberty and I was really curious about it," the oldest said.

Julio looked over at his friend. "Yours, too?"

"Nah, my sex life's just always been weird. I've had them a couple times when I was younger because of the shit I was going through," he admitted, "but now my dreams are all over the place, especially when I relapsed." He'd had sex with a lot of strange men and the memories of them carried over into his unconscious psyche. "I've had dreams about..." He stopped himself, but Julio wouldn't let it go.

He lifted his eyebrow when he asked, "You've had dreams about me and my brother?"

Drake felt his cheeks getting hot. He was feeling tipsy at this point, so a lot of things were slipping out. "Anyway, is it my turn?"

Ricardo jumped in now. "Admit it," he said with a teasing smile. "You have!"

"I mean..." Drake squinted his eyes, the alcohol making him grin despite his embarrassment. "Is that weird?"

"That's pretty damn weird," Julio said.

"Was it, like, full-on sex or...?" Ricardo was curious.

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?!" Julio's eyes exploded. "How many times have you had these dreams?!"

"I can't help what I do in my sleep," Drake defended. "If you walk up to me with your dick out, chances are I'm gonna..." Again, he stopped himself, then took another drink. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for this. "Who's turn is it?"

"Bruh, don't even worry about it. It's totally fine," Ricardo said. "We're just giving you a hard time. I dreamed Bobby Felcher from high school gave me a blowjob once."

"Did you reciprocate?" Julio asked.

"Well, I couldn't just not return the favor."

"You guys are fuckin'... I don't even know."

Drake spoke up. "Anal is actually really nice if you — you know — if you've given your consent and you're relaxed. I mean, I didn't really have a choice the first time I did it with a woman. She was paying me and I needed the money to give to Marcellas. She said I'd have to do anal if I wanted her to give me the cash. She made sure I was really comfortable, though, and it turned out to be one of the best sexual experiences I've ever had."

"Well, the male g-spot is in his ass," Ricardo said.

"So you let a girl shove a dildo up your ass?" Julio asked.

Drake shrugged. "Yeah."

"Leave him alone," Ricky said.

"I'm just — no, I'm not judging you," the boy said to Drake. "I just feel like — just wow. I never would've guessed. I mean, I'm genuinely curious. Not that I wanna try it, but I've just never talked to another guy who has let a girl do that. Do you like it better or... Like, are you bi?"

"Honestly, I don't even know at this point," Drake said. "So much shit has happened. I think... I'm just really confused, I guess."

"Shit," Julio said and Drake could see his gears spinning.

On a serious note, Ricardo said, "Maybe that's something you can bring up with your counselor when you go."

"Yeah," said Drake. "I mean, I like girls. I've just fucked a lot of guys, too, recently, and I guess...I kind of...liked it?" He knew that he wouldn't have been able to admit any of this without the alcohol. "I don't know," he said, shutting down again. "Rhinestone used to call me gay all the time. Maybe he just knew something I didn't."

"Well, Rhinestone was a prick," Julio said, "so who gives a shit what he thinks? Anyway, back to the important question. So," he said, "me or my brother? Who was the better fuck?"

"Julio!" Ricky scolded.

"No, I don't wanna answer that." Drake lowered his head, his cheeks a bright shade of pink.

"Come _on_ ," Julio pushed. "Just tell us."

"Nah, man. Don't."

"Drake, come on. It's just us three. No one else has to know. We're best friends. Just tell us. Me or Ricardo?"

The answer was Ricardo. Julio had been a great fuck, though, but it was just that: a fuck. It was different with Ricky; he was gentler and kind, and that's something that Drake wasn't exactly used to during sex. There was some emotional level with his sexual fantasy about himself and the older of the group. It was probably somehow related to the fact that he'd practically saved his life. There was a specific type of love and respect Drake had for the man that he could never put into words.

For a second, he looked like he was going to answer. He met Ricardo's eyes and held his gaze a bit longer than he meant to before he stared down at his lap again. "No, I don't want to."

"Leave it alone," Ricky said. "They're just dreams anyway. How would he know who's better?"

* * *

Despite how exhausted he was, Drake had a hard time going to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt like he was falling out of the back of a helicopter while the world spun around him. Maybe he shouldn't have drank so much? How many did he have again? Eleven, right? They'd bought two twenty packs at the store. Julio drank a shitload even though he didn't really even like beer. Ricardo had a lot, too. The only reason Drake had been cut off was because he started whining about how much better he would feel if he had Charlie, too.

Maybe laying on his side would help him feel more grounded. He wished he had his cell phone. That way, he could call Clementine. No, that was definitely the worst move he could make right now. Right? Or was it? Maybe taking away his phone wasn't such a bad idea after all.

He wasn't sure what he had expected when he'd showed up at her house. Drake had abandoned her, he'd broken his promise, and he'd cheated. Why would she take him back after that? If someone had done that to him, he would've left in a heartbeat.

He wondered what she was doing right now. Maybe she was fucking her new boyfriend. Maybe he was giving it to her really hard and maybe she was really into it. Maybe she was moaning and squealing and maybe she accidentally calls out Drake's name. Maybe the new guy gets pissed and storms out and maybe Clem is crying and trying to get in touch with Drake because she wants him back. Maybe he should ask for his phone.

After glancing at the clock, he realized that it was almost three in the morning. Maybe she's just asleep. God, but how he wished she was here. Going to bed alone was one of the saddest things in the world.

He heard his bedroom door open and looked over his shoulder. "Hey," he said when he saw Ricardo.

"Hey." He was still clearly trashed himself and it was obvious when he stumbled across the room. It was a full-sized bed, so Drake scooted over and let him in. "I just wanted to check on you," Ricardo said. He was whispering even though Julio was probably passed out in his own room right now. "To make sure you hadn't snuck off."

"Like there's anywhere to fucking go."

"You're pretty resourceful."

"I guess." Drake turned over onto his other side so that he faced him. "You can't sleep either?"

"No."

This reminded Drake of all the times that Ricky had laid with him until he'd cried himself to sleep. Those were hard times and getting sober had seemed like such an impossible feat. Sometimes, it still does.

"Hey, thanks for bringing me up here. I know I've been shitting all over everything you're trying to do. I wouldn't be me if I didn't ruin things somehow. I do appreciate you trying, though. I know I get all pissy every time you try to help, but I'm so grateful that you do. You and Julio are the only two people who haven't given up on me," Drake said. "I'm sorry I relapsed again. I know it came out of nowhere and we'd just had a bunch of positive talks that made everything seem like they were okay, and they were at the time. I know you're disappointed. I'll do better. I'll... Well, I know my words probably don't mean shit to you at this point. I just wish I would stop using."

He was pretty drunk, so instead of saying something encouraging, his real fearful self showed. "I wish you would, too."

Drake looked at him and started to speak, but he stopped. What was there to say? Another promise that he wasn't sure he could keep? An apology he'd repeated so many times that it was starting to lose its meaning? That's all that ever came out of his mouth anymore and he felt guilty for it.

Just then, Ricardo surprised Drake by pressing his lips against his. The boy's immediate instinct was to pull away.

"I'm sorry," the man said.

"No, I just..."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Drake reassured. To prove it, he connected their lips again. To say that he was utterly confused was an understatement, but he went along with it anyway. He was drunk and nothing in his life made any sense anymore, but whatever.

Ricardo lifted himself up so that he hovered above him. He never pulled his lips away. Instead, he added tongue and Drake reciprocated. They both tasted like alcohol and they reeked of it as well.

Drake's hand moved down his chest, over his belly button and then disappeared into the waistband of his sweatpants. Ricardo cringed with pleasure at his touch, then he mimicked the boy's action, putting his hand in Drake's pajamas.

Ricardo only pulled his mouth away to ask, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah." Drake lifted his head off the pillow and connected their lips again.

Ricardo wasn't as skilled in this department, so he basically followed the other boy's lead. Whatever Drake did to him, he would do back.

It wasn't long before Drake got hard. Ricardo, on the other hand, was still a bit shy about everything. Drake flipped him onto his back, then got on top of him. He removed the man's shirt, then felt Ricky sliding up his own. He pulled it the rest of the way off and tossed it to the side, then he slid his partner's pants and underwear down and dropped them in the floor. Ricardo was completely naked now as Drake went back to kissing him. They made out for a while, then the young man's lips moved down his neck, across his collarbone, over his chest, past his belly button...

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Ricardo slurred. "You want this, too?" His friend had been mistreated and used by a lot of different men in his life and he didn't want his name to be added to the list.

Drake responded with, "Yes. Do you?"

Ricardo nodded his confirmation and then loudly let go of his breath when Drake wrapped his lips around his penis. It was thick like Tad's, but unlike Tad's, it was also lengthy. It probably matched Drake's eight inches. Pretty soon, the boy felt Ricardo's member stiffen. This didn't surprise him. He was much better with his mouth than with his hand anyway. As he continued his work, he started massaging his balls, rolling them around in his hand. Ricardo's breath caught in his throat. He closed his eyes, his breathing deep. He reached down and put his hand on the back of Drake's head. Moments later, he had eased into it enough to clench his hand into a fist, the boy's hair entangled between his fingers. He pushed his head down further, urging him to let him go deeper. Drake complied as Ricardo let go of a moan. The younger one's head moved up and down over the man's crotch and his hand followed suit. He moved his tongue rhythmically over the sensitive skin, and he swore he could taste the saltiness of pre-cum. Just when he thought that he should ease up a bit, Ricky pushed his head down even further until he was touching the back of the boy's throat. Drake went with it for a couple pumps, but he was quick to pull away when he started gagging.

"Sorry. The alcohol's got me all nauseous."

"I didn't mean to... Just tell me if I'm doing something wrong."

"Don't worry. I will," Drake assured. "So what did you wanna do? Did you just wanna do mouth and hand stuff? Or go all the way?"

Ricardo let him know that he wanted to try the latter.

"Do you want me to bottom or...?"

"I've never done this before," he said. "I guess I wanna try both."

"Which one first?"

Ricardo had performed anal on a girl before, so he figured it would be the same thing basically. He was more comfortable with that, so that would be a good starting point, then he could ease his way into the other. "I'll top first," he said. "Do you have any lube?"

"I have lotion." Drake reached into his nightstand and pulled out a squirt bottle. While Ricardo lathered himself, he took off his pajama pants and boxers. Drake had done this a thousand times before, so he was okay letting his partner make all of the decisions. He wanted Ricardo to be comfortable since this was his first time. "How do you want me?"

Ricardo didn't seem to know how to respond.

Drake figured that Ricardo might get uncomfortable facing him, so he turned and rested on his hands and knees. "How about this?"

"What do I do?"

"You just ease your way in."

Ricardo got behind him and gripped his hips. He slowly poked his head inside. "Is this okay?"

"I'm fine. Just keep going."

Ricardo got the hang of it pretty quickly and soon, he was going at it with full force. Drake's sex dream had been wrong. Ricky was anything but gentle. He just kept ramming it in harder and harder and harder, and then he roughly snatched the boy's hair back so that he could hear him better although he didn't need to. If Julio wasn't passed out drunk right now, even he would be able to hear Drake's moans and pants and Ricardo's grunts.

Drake asked him to get more lotion on his palm and jerk him off at the same time. He did for a while, but he couldn't concentrate on doing both, so Drake eventually took over.

They went on like this for a good while until Drake climaxed and squirted all over the sheets. Ricardo asked where he should cum and Drake said he was fine with him doing it anywhere as long as he gave him a warning first. He didn't feel right about releasing inside of him, so he, too, shot his sperm onto the bedsheets.

After that, they rested, and during which, they cleaned up and wiped themselves off. For a while, Drake stimulated Ricardo's backside with his fingers to get him ready for what was to come. When they were both recharged, they got each other hard, then repeated their earlier process, but with Ricardo on the bottom this time. Drake took it slow. He was patient and calm, and he talked to him and checked in a lot just like Molly had done for him. Drake kept having to remind him to relax his muscles and he offered to stop several times, but Ricardo urged him to keep going. It took a good bit of time, but Ricky finally started to get used to it. While Drake thrusted, he reached around and tugged on the man's penis. Ricardo was consumed with a pleasure he had never felt before.

* * *

Drake hefted himself out of bed, his heavy bare feet stomping against the floor as he bolted out of his room and into the bathroom. He had just enough time to lift the toilet seat as a river of vomit spewed from his lips.

He didn't mind the process of throwing up. It wasn't that bad. Leaning over the toilet and puking his guts out gave him Charlie flashbacks and, although he shouldn't, he welcomed those. Right before the high would begin, he would vomit and, when he was finished, his eyes would be blurry and his brain fuzzy. This time, though, it wasn't. He couldn't help himself for wishing it was. What he would give to be able to take a handful of Triple C's again...

Another round of puke slipped out when he swore he could taste the tiny red pills on his tongue. Despite his undying love for them, they made him sick and nauseated as fuck. Just thinking about them so suddenly and intensely gave him a false sense of the pre-high he longed desired to feel. He let it overcome him. He felt it numb his body and mind, but he knew that it was only wishful thinking. He had to snap himself back to reality. _Julio and Ricky don't deserve to go through this again, Drake._

 _Ricky..._ Now memories of last night were coming back to him. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was too early to tell. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't have immediate feelings one way or the other. He didn't regret it, but he wasn't head-over-heels in love with Ricardo either. It was just a fuck and it was fine. He only hoped his best friend felt the same way.

Drake gave himself some time before he stood just to make sure he didn't have another round in him. He flushed the toilet, then cleaned himself off and brushed his teeth before leaving the bathroom. He kind of wanted to lay back down, but there was something about hangover mornings that he really enjoyed. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It just felt quieter and more peaceful somehow. Usually, someone was always blasting music or watching tv or roughhousing or bickering. They were three boys living under one roof. There was rarely a dull moment. Today, however, no one felt up to any of that. The headaches and fatigue and nausea were to blame. Drake didn't plan on wasting this time of solitude. He made his way outside and took a seat in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. It looked like it was going to rain today, which would perfectly match his mood — not that he was feeling down. Rain and grayness made him feel calm. He leaned forwards and grabbed his pack of cigarettes and lighter off of the porch banister. This is all he did for the next thirty minutes until Julio joined him.

"Hey," the boy said, announcing his arrival.

Drake looked over his shoulder. "Hey."

"I didn't know you were up yet." He took a seat in the second rocking chair, then passed Drake a Corona while taking a gulp of his own.

Drake watched him, surprised that he was having another beer. He wasn't in the mood. He just wanted the sickness to be gone and he never wanted to drink again. That's how he always felt after nights of heavy drinking. Just the thought of it made him want to vomit again.

"I've been playing on my phone forever," Julio continued. "I've been so bored."

Drake could tell that he was buzzed despite it being eleven in the morning. They'd drank most of the beers last night. Julio must've finished them off today. For some reason, Drake felt like he should drink the one his friend had offered him just so he couldn't have it, so he tilted the bottle over his lips. He didn't know why. He was just getting Martin vibes from him. Just two days ago, Julio had basically told Drake he was shit, then he'd beaten him up in the front lawn, and now he was drinking first thing in the morning.

"How long have you been up?" Julio asked.

"Not long. Maybe half an hour or something."

"Ricardo's been awake, too. I heard him throwing up, but he won't talk to me and I can't get him to come out of his room. Did I piss him off last night and I just forgot?"

Drake now knew Ricardo's feelings about last night, but he didn't mention it. "No, I don't think so." He went for another cigarette. "He probably just feels like shit."

Without asking, Julio picked up the pack that Drake set down and took one out for himself. Drake didn't mind. It wasn't like his broke ass was paying for them anyway. He had to get a job soon. He felt so guilty for being such a bum. Julio didn't have to work because he was in school full-time. After buying the books he needed with his financial aid, he was practically getting paid to go anyway. Drake thought about going. Ricky and Julio both pushed him hard when they had their semester sign-ups. He always thought of a reason not to go, though. He had his GED, which he also wouldn't have gotten without a push from Ricardo. He just didn't feel fit for college. The job titles that follow are doctors and lawyers and business executives. Sure, there were other normal people jobs, but he wasn't normal. He was the type of guy who would grow up, live in the trailer park, drink a shitload of beer, take a bunch of pills and work at shitty fast-food restaurants or figure out a way to scam the system. He was going to be like his dad, and that's just how it was.

"Jesus Christ, Drake," Julio said, breaking the boy out of his thoughts.

Drake furrowed his brows. "What?"

"I know what you're doing."

"What?" He was genuinely confused.

"You're sitting there thinking yourself into a depression and you practically just woke up."

Was it that obvious? "I was actually."

"Stop that."

Somehow, magically almost, those thoughts were gone. If only it were this easy the rest of the time.

Drake took a drag from his cigarette, then let go of his breath. He rubbed one of his eyes and yawned. "I'm so fucking tired."

"I don't know how you're gonna be able to wake up at five every morning and go for a run," Julio said.

"Five? Shit, me neither."

"Me neither actually. I hate waking up early."

"Why at five?"

"I don't know. I've just always wanted to be one of those people."

"Can't we push it to, like...seven? At least until we get used to it?"

"That's probably better. I don't know. I just wanna do it when it's dark outside because I just like the idea of being awake when the rest of the world's asleep."

Drake understood, but for different reasons. He preferred the cover of nightfall solely because he felt more active in the dark. His mood was always much better — possibly because lights had a tendency to make him feel nervous or headachy. Darkness was almost like a snug security blanket to him. He felt much more focused with the lights off, and running while the moon was still out would probably make him feel the same way.

"Well, we can try five and see how it goes," Drake said, putting out his cigarette. "That's probably better anyway so you'll have time to grab a shower and breakfast before class." He stood. "I'm gonna find something to eat. You want anything?"

"I am kinda hungry." Julio stood and followed him inside.

Drake really wasn't hungry. He hadn't been all day. In fact, the thought — and smell especially — of food made him sick. He braved them anyway because he knew it would be better in the long run.

* * *

It was close to five in the afternoon and Drake was on his second plate of fries. That's what he'd decided on for breakfast. Something greasy would cure his hangover in no time. The worst of the nausea was gone and, after he finished this second full plate of French fries with ketchup, he should be in the clear. He'd definitely still feel fatigued and shitty, but at least the constant feeling of needing to vomit would be gone. Despite his indifference toward actually throwing up, he despised the feeling of nausea.

They were watching Drake's all-time favorite show _It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia_. The television here didn't have any channels, but luckily, Ricardo had thought to bring one of Drake's discs. He had all the seasons thus far, which was one of the first things he had bought with his paycheck after Netflix had removed the show. Ricky had randomly picked up the season eight disc, which had been playing ever since Drake finished making the fries.

For the most part, both he and Julio had their eyes glued to the tv, but at times, they would start talking about something, or they'd be in and out of the living room and the show supplied a nice background noise.

Both had attempted to coerce Ricardo to come out of his room, but neither were successful. Drake was starting — like always — to feel like he'd ruined things. He'd been drunk last night — there was no denying that — but he still had a state of mind to say no. He should've. Now Ricky was spending his entire vacation locked away with a hangover and no food to aid its passing.

"You want the rest of these?" Drake asked his friend.

Julio looked over and saw a handful of French fries left on the boy's plate. "I guess. Are we still waiting for my brother or do you wanna go ahead and do dinner?"

"I'm gonna smoke, but I guess we can go ahead and cook." He stood and made his way out front. He opened his pack of cigarettes and started to light one, but then something occurred to him.

Drake put the cigarette back, then made his way down the porch steps. He turned to the right and walked around the house until he came to one window in particular. He pushed on it and, miraculously, it was unlocked. He lifted it higher, then hefted himself up. It was kind of high up, but he was good at climbing through windows. He had spent a good bit of his younger teenage years climbing through girls' windows and a good bit of his older teenage years climbing through friends' windows to escape his dad's misdirected wrath.

His body wasn't hurting like it had been yesterday and the day before — not from the Triple C's anyway. The back of his calves were on fire, but that was because of the hike. Despite how much he had complained at the time, it was a good kind of burn. It made him feel healthy and proud of himself. He wanted his legs to feel that way all the time if it came with those emotions.

After getting inside, he found the room to be empty, but not a second later, the master bathroom door opened and out stepped Ricardo. The man was stunned, then seemingly embarrassed, and then a tad bit angry.

"How did you get in here?" He noticed the open window before Drake could even answer.

"I think we should talk," the boy said softly. He knew that his friend was in a mood he had never seen him in before, so he approached the situation cautiously.

"There's nothing to talk about." He took a seat on his bed and leaned back against the headboard.

Drake furrowed his brows, baffled that he was trying to deny that anything had ever happened. He wasn't offended — just surprised. "I just don't want things to be weird."

"It's not."

"Then why the fuck have you been hiding in your room all day?"

"Because I don't wanna be bothered." He gave Drake an accusing look when he said this.

"So we had sex. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Will you shut the fuck up?!" Ricardo hissed quietly.

Drake could tell that he didn't want Julio to hear. "Look..." He sat down on the foot of the bed and could distinctly see a look of discomfort flash across his friend's eyes. This time, his feelings were hurt, but he brushed that to the side. "Let's just put everything out there and then it doesn't have to be weird."

"I don't wanna talk about it, okay?"

"Well, we're gonna talk about it," Drake snapped back. He immediately felt bad. He wasn't one to be so demanding and authoritative like his father. In fact, he was the exact opposite. His own voice scared him a little. He retracted in a more timid manner. "I just want you to be able to talk to me. You always make me tell you everything." He quickly added, "And I want to. I just want you to be able to do the same. Nothing good is gonna come out of ignoring it. You let me know where you stand, I'll let you know where I stand, and then that'll be that."

"I'm not all of a sudden in love with you if that's what you're saying."

"Okay." Drake shrugged as if to show him that his feelings weren't hurt and that opening up to him was a good thing. When Ricardo shut down again, the boy said, "I'm sorry. I thought you wanted it. I should've put a stop to it-"

"I did want it." Ricardo didn't want Drake blaming himself like he always did, especially when he was the one who had initiated the whole thing.

"Were you just... Was it just because you were drunk and horny or...?"

"I don't know."

"You can tell me," Drake assured. "You know I'm the last person that would judge you. I mean, look at all the shit I've done. You don't have to feel embarrassed."

"I guess I was just curious. I mean, I've always been curious. That's normal." He seemed to be trying to convince himself instead of Drake.

"Absolutely," the boy reassured.

"I was just laying in bed and I just kept thinking about what you had said during Never Have I Ever..." Ricardo said. "And I was super wasted."

"I feel like I took advantage of you," Drake admitted.

Ricky furrowed his brows. "I feel like _I_ took advantage of _you_."

The younger of the two didn't understand. "What?"

"I just feel like... I don't know..."

"You can tell me."

"I don't wanna say something that's gonna hurt your feelings or trigger you or something."

Drake was starting to understand. "You mean because of what my dad did?"

"Not just him," Ricardo said. "You've had all these men in your life that have used you and made you do things that you don't wanna do. I didn't wanna be one of them."

"You're not."

"What if it had been my brother? What if, instead of me, Julio came into your room and started kissing you? Would you have kissed him back? Would you have let it get as far as we got?"

Drake thought it over before replying with, "I guess."

" _That_ 's the problem. _'I guess.'_ You would do those things because that's what you would feel like he wanted. Just like last night. You went with it because I wanted it. You did what your dad said because he wanted it. You did what Tad said because he wanted it. You did what those guys at the truck stop said because they wanted it. Don't you understand?"

"That's not true. I mean, part of it, but-"

"Yes, it is."

"I promise you that I don't feel like that about what happened. I did with them, but with you, I wanted it."

"So you're gay?"

"No. I don't think so. I've just been so confused about everything. Last night was like an experiment, and I thought that that's what it was for you, too. I wanted to try going with a guy that didn't force himself on me just to see, you know, how it felt."

"And?"

"I don't know. I liked it. It was really good. I just feel like I'd rather do that stuff with a girl, I guess." He still wasn't so sure where he stood on the subject of his sexuality. "I don't know, but I swear to you that it was consensual on my end, and you know I would tell you if it wasn't."

Ricardo studied him just to see if he was telling the truth. Drake was a hard read sometimes, but he felt that the boy was being sincere.

"Was it okay for you?" Drake asked.

He couldn't meet the boy's eyes when he said, "It was fine."

Drake couldn't shake the feeling that there was more than what his friend was letting on. Like...maybe Ricardo was...gay? Maybe it wasn't because of Drake and his constant neediness that the man was single. He was kind, supportive, hot, intelligent, funny and he made an adequate living for himself. Girls should be all over that, right? It suddenly occurred to Drake that he couldn't recall the last time Ricky had brought a date home. In fact, when was the last time he had even gone out on a date? _Plus, Ricardo did get super into it last night._

"You know if...if you're into guys-"

"I'm not into guys," he snapped with anger in his voice.

"Okay," Drake conceded meekly. "Sorry. I just... You know me and Julio would love you either way."

"I'm not gay," he repeated.

"Okay." Drake dropped the subject. He said, "You're my best friend, and I don't want last night to mess things up between us. You're the first guy I've ever experimented with willingly and I'm glad I did it with someone I trusted, but I don't want that to ruin our friendship."

"Of course it won't," Ricardo promised. "I'm sorry I've been such a jerk. This is all just really new to me. I didn't know that you would be so okay with it."

"I came three times. I was very okay with it." Drake offered a humorous smile, which made Ricky smile in return. Like always, he could turn anything into a joke.

"You're so gay," Ricky laughed.

Drake shrugged. "So will you come hang out with me and Julio now? He's ready for dinner."

"Sure." He stood after Drake, but stopped the boy before he could open the door. "But could you not say anything about any of this to Julio?"

"You want me to lie to your brother?"

"It's not lying really. I just — this was a one time thing. He doesn't need to know everything about our sex lives, does he?"

"I guess not."

"Thanks," Ricardo said. "So what are you making for dinner?"

"Me?! No, no, no. I did dinner last night."

* * *

Drake somehow, of course, had gotten stuck with dinner duty again. After making chicken fried rice, the three had sat down in the living room, ready for a movie. This was the last night for their three-day mini vacation and, despite the many trials and tribulations that had occurred, things were mostly okay. Going home tomorrow, they would take with them a sober Drake, a more positive Julio and a less stressed Ricardo. Overall, the man's spontaneous plan had been a success.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Discussing the addiction stigma, future plans for this story, a mini spoiler to look out for and IS KENZLY RETURNING? Read on to learn more and don't forget to drop a review to let me know if this story is still interesting to anyone!**

 **That kinda came out of left field, huh? I just wanted to really focus on what Drake is feeling and thinking after everything that happened to him over the years and how everything has left him feeling lost and confused, especially sexually. I'll delve deeper into this subject in coming chapters.**

 **I wanna thank all those who are reading, but especially my two guests reviewers. To the first one: I'm glad I'm getting the ups and downs of addiction across well. There's a big stigma attached to addiction and I just hope that this story can help people to better understand and openly discuss addiction. It could affect anyone, even people who haven't had to deal with nearly as much shit as Drake. Throughout this story, Drake has crossed paths with several other people who have struggled or currently are struggling with addiction. They each have their own personalities and backgrounds. Some were raised well, like Meelah and Gemini, who used meth for a while when dating Rhinestone (before meeting Drake that summer). Others have dealt with trauma and sexual abuse, like Rhinestone, Drake and even Drake's dad. Some people are full-blown out of control like Kyle and the prostitute neighbor Drake once had while staying in a motel. Some people are good at hiding it like Julio with his growing alcoholism. (Hint, hint! Keep an eye out for that now). Anyway, I just went off on a whole tangent. You get the point.**

 **To the second guest reviewer: I promise Kenzly is coming back. I have huge plans for her character. Now just isn't the right time. Give it about three or four more chapters. That's not a promise, but I'm currently writing the seventh chapter and it looks like it's beginning to head in that direction. Please, bear with me.**

 **I love you guys and if you have any suggestions for the story, lemme know! I have a general direction as to where things are heading, but as for the little things that basically fill up spac** **e — I'm struggling a bit and that's what's really taking me so long. Totally open to big plot ideas as well. Just remember that everything's a process in my stories and I have to set certain things up chapters beforehand sometimes.**

 **Anyway, I'm rambling on for no reason. I would appreciate your thoughts whether you loved the chapter or hated it. Reviews are really uplifting and encourage me to focus on my writing. Have a fantastic day. You are amazing.**


	5. Sexual Preference: Unknown

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Julio screamed as he shot up in bed. He was dripping with water.

Drake stood over him with a wry grin. "I told you to get up." He innocently shrugged, the large pitcher in his hand now empty. _Ah, revenge is so sweet._

In one quick movement, Julio was out of bed. He reached for Drake, who was quick to dodge his grasp. The boy turned and bolted out of the room with his angry friend following right on his tail. Drake took the steps two at a time, then skipped the last few completely. The whole time, Julio was behind him, shouting obscene curses and death threats. Now they were in the kitchen. Drake was on one side of the island and Julio was on the other. Every time Drake would start to inch right, the other boy would follow.

"Bruh, chill, alright?" Drake said. Only a small part of him was scared. The rest on him was laughing his head off and struggling to breathe at the same time. "It was just a joke," was his attempt at damage control.

"We'll see who's laughing when I shove my fist down your fucking THROAT!" With that last word, he lunged at him and, again, he missed.

Drake just barely slipped by. He exited the kitchen and, this time, took the foyer stairs, but on his way up to the second floor, his ankle was grabbed and he tripped. Julio yanked him down a couple steps.

"Stop!" Drake yelled. He was flipped onto his back and he hit the wall harshly in the process. "Get off!"

They were only roughhousing, but even still, Drake knew that he would lose and he hated losing. He tried to fight for his freedom, but Julio was much stronger.

"Alright, alright," Ricardo groaned as he trudged down the stairs. "Christ, how are you already fucking doing this?" He looked exhausted and it was clear the two had woken him.

"Fucking get off!" Drake demanded.

"Julio, let him up," the oldest said in a tone that sounded like he was accusing them of acting like children.

Before he stood, Julio shook his entire body. Droplets of water flew from his soaked hair and clothes. Drake covered himself as best as he could. Once Julio was on his feet, he held out his hand and Drake took it.

"God, you're such a prick," Drake said, wiping off his damp face.

Julio replied with, "Oh, fuck off."

Ricardo elbowed his way past them, knocking them both against the walls on either side of the staircase. "You're both pricks." He smacked the backs of both of their heads then started towards the kitchen.

"Ow!" Drake clutched the injured spot. "Rude."

"I was trying to fucking sleep until I heard you two stomping around and yelling."

"It was Drake's fault," Julio said blamelessly.

"Fuck you," was Drake's response.

After turning on the coffee pot, Ricardo turned back to the boys and leaned against the counter. His brother was soaking wet, so he could put together what had lead up to this.

"Really, Drake?"

"You guys did it first," the boy said defensively. He was referring to an early morning just days ago when the two had gotten him up obnoxiously early for a hike up a mountain.

Julio interceded with, "Ricardo's the one who did it to you. I was just an innocent bystander. Why didn't you pour water on him?"

"No way," Drake said, softer now. "He'll kick the shit out of me."

"You're damn right," he said, then he checked the microwave for the time. "And I still fucking might. Christ, it's only four-thirty!"

Julio pointed to his friend. "Drake did it."

"Fuck you," Drake said bravely, but then he went on to apologize and explain profusely that he and Julio were supposed to start morning jogging today, but that the boy refused to wake up.

Ricky turned off the coffee pot. "I'm gonna go back to bed." He started up the kitchen staircase. "If I hear a peep out of either of you again, I'm seriously gonna bust both of your asses."

After he was gone, Julio looked at Drake. "Bitch." He removed his wet shirt and tossed it into the laundry room, which was towards the back of the kitchen.

"Well, at least you're up. I was just trying to be a good friend," he said. "You made a goal, and we promised to hold each other accountable. So you're welcome."

Julio glared at him as he walked past, but he didn't say anything because he knew that it was true. In fact, he had been the one who had basically stated those words first. He made his way upstairs and into his room to grab some clothes. When he was finished getting ready, he joined Drake in the living room. The boy was slipping on his shoes.

"You got your phone?"

Drake looked up at him with a furrowed brow as he pulled the back of his Converse out from under his heel. "Yeah, why?"

"To play music on. Your voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me right now and I'll probably fling myself in front of a car if you start trying to converse with me."

Drake rolled his eyes, then looked down at his shoe as he tied it. "Asshole."

* * *

Drake slowed his jog down to a walk when he caught up to Julio. He was breathing hard, his face was pouring with sweat and his legs felt like jelly. "Fuck," he exhaled between pants.

His friend was out of breath as well. "We're so out of shape."

Despite the pain and exhaustion, Drake was kind of into it. His legs had felt heavy and sluggish during the jog, but now that he was walking, he felt light. He imagined that this is what bouncing around on the moon felt like — like maybe if he took a forceful enough step, he would ascend into the air a couple of feet and then float right back down. It was like Drake could literally feel the dopamine, endorphins, and serotonin releasing from his brain. He and Julio had set a goal and then they'd seen it through, if only for one day. He had never really set goals before, so he had to admit that he was feeling really good about himself.

"I'm gonna need you to make a better playlist before tomorrow," Julio said. "Your depression music is kinda counterproductive."

"Yeah, I feel you."

Drake pulled out his phone, then turned off the melancholic song that was playing. He checked the time. They had left a little before five and it was just past five-twenty now. Since this was their first day, they were just going to slowly ease themselves into it. They'd circled around their neighborhood once, which wasn't a bad start.

They crossed the yard, opened the front door, then went inside. Both of them immediately went into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

"The fuck are we supposed to do now that we're up?" _It's still dark outside even_ , Drake noticed.

"I don't know about you, but I've gotta shower and get ready for class."

"You think Ricky will wake up if I shower in his bathroom?" Drake asked. He was sweaty and sticky and didn't want to wait. Plus, he hated showering immediately after someone else.

Julio shrugged. "I don't know. Hey, you wanna be my best friend?"

Drake furrowed his brow. "I already _am_ your best friend..."

"Can you, _please_ , make that breakfast casserole thing before I leave for school?"

The boy groaned. "Ugh, Julio, I've already told you how to make it a thousand times."

"I forgot, though."

"How, though?" Drake said. "You literally just make sausage, grits, eggs, potatoes and cheese and then mix it all together."

"But it tastes better when you do it because you make it with love." He put his hands together to make a heart and wore a puppy dog face.

"Christ," Drake mumbled to himself. "I'll make it when I get out of the shower."

"Dope." He started to head upstairs. "You're my favorite friend. You know that?"

"I'm your _only_ friend."

* * *

"Drake, is that you?" Ricardo's voice came from the other side of the curtain.

Drake winced. "Yeah," he called over the running water. "I dropped the fucking..." He'd knocked over the shampoo on the shelf, which had then hit the conditioner, then the body wash and so forth; they had all crashed onto the tub floor, but Drake had hoped that it hadn't been as loud as he had thought. "Did I wake you?"

The man lifted the toilet seat and started to relieve his bladder. "Yeah, kinda."

"Sorry. I was trying to be stealthy."

Ricardo's brows furrowed and he cracked a grin. "Stealthy? Since when the fuck have you ever used that word?"

Drake thought for a moment as he rinsed out the shampoo. "I don't know. Is that weird?"

"It's pretty fucking weird," Ricky said. "Are you high?"

"No, why?"

"You always say weird shit when you're high," he replied. "Maybe those books you're reading are doing you some good."

Those words gave Drake a sense of pride.

Ricardo said, "You know it's, like, six in the morning, right?"

"Sorry. I just really needed a shower."

The man tucked himself back into his boxers. "How was the run?"

"Exhausting, but...it feels good."

"That's good." He closed the lid, then smiled wickedly as he flushed the toilet. He moved over to the sink to wash his hands and waited.

It wasn't long before Drake screeched as ice cold water poured all over his skin. "Ricky, what the fuck?!"

"Don't fucking wake me up next time," he said before leaving with a sense of satisfaction.

* * *

"Breakfast is done." Drake huffed as he landed on the couch on his back.

Ricky looked up at him from his phone. "You still tired from the run this morning?"

"I don't know. I've felt like shit ever since I woke up, but now I kinda just wanna lay here and not move for the rest of my life." He coughed and it came from deep within his chest.

"You getting sick?"

"It feels like it." Drake grabbed the blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch and snuggled with it. "You work today?"

"Nah, I'm off," the man said.

"Let's watch a movie."

"Got something in mind?"

"Not really. You?"

"Nah." He stood, then grabbed the television and PlayStation 4 controllers. "Find something on Netflix while I grab food."

"What genre?"

"I don't care."

Drake pulled up Netflix, then started scrolling through his list. All three of them had separate profiles under one joint account, which they shared the bill for, or at least they had when Drake had had a job. That was definitely next on his list. He hated feeling so useless. However, Ricardo kept assuring him that they were fine money-wise and that it was important for Drake not to rush into things too quickly.

His head was already aching slightly, but scrolling through his list of saved movies made it hurt more and rolling his eyes across the screen left him with a wave of nausea. Unwilling to further expose himself to these feelings, he clicked on a movie: _Creep_. He remembered adding it months ago before his relapse. It was supposed to be one of those October night watches, but that kind of never happened. Even still it sounded good and it was a first-person flick, which he loved. Drake set the controller down and went into the kitchen to grab his cigarettes off of the counter.

"Pick a movie?"

"Yeah," he said, opening the front door. "I'm gonna smoke first, though."

* * *

Drake had enjoyed _Creep_ so much that he immediately watched its sequel afterwards. By the time it was over, he was full-blown sick. He was running a fever, had goosebumps all over his body, was freezing and trembling, frequently switched back and forth from a runny nose to a snuffed up one and coughed a lot. He was now back upstairs, dozing in and out of sleep.

Ricardo gave the wide open door a double tap before stepping inside. Drake turned over and met his eyes. Despite the cold coming on so suddenly, he already looked worn out and unhealthy. He was pale and his eyes were dark and a bit sunken in.

"I made soup and grilled cheese," Ricardo said in a friendly voice.

The boy weakly pushed himself into a sitting position. He wasn't hungry, but he didn't want to come off as ungrateful. He sniffled as he rested his back against the headboard. "What kind?"

"Tomato." He carefully set a tray down on Drake's lap.

"Thanks."

"Still running a fever?" Without waiting for an answer, he reached out and touched his friend's forehead. "Shit. When did you take that medicine?"

"Two hours ago, I think." He really wasn't sure. Waking up so early threw his schedule off. He felt like he had been up forever when it wasn't even twelve o'clock yet.

"You can take two more around one-thirty."

Drake brushed his hair out of his eyes, then picked up his spoon with shaky hands. He noticed that Ricky still hadn't left yet, so he motioned to the empty spot next to him. "Wanna sit down?"

Instead of reclining on the bed, he went over to the desk in the corner and sat backwards in the swiveling chair. Although he didn't want to get sick, that wasn't the reason he had sat at such a distance. Drake took notice of this, but brushed it off as he took his first bite of the soup. The warmth soothed his irritated throat.

The man didn't know what to say. Despite the fact that they'd both had a mature discussion about what had happened between them, it was still weird for him to have to act casual around Drake everyday. He glanced around the room, searching for some sort of conversation topic. His eyes landed on the bright yellow chapter book on the desk next to him. He picked it up and started flipping through in search of Drake's bookmark. "How much more do you have?"

"I finished it last night."

"How did it end?" He'd listened to his friend read some of the book when he had free time and it sounded pretty interesting even though, for the most part, it was about making a pornographic film. At least, that's the parts that Ricky had listened in on.

"Sick Boy got burned again," Drake said.

"Shit."

"Yeah. He's kind of a jerk and a sex-crazed sociopath, but I really felt bad for the guy — betrayed by his best friend twice."

"What's next on your reading list?" he asked.

Drake took another bite of soup. "There's another book in the series: the prequel, _Skagboys_. I read them all out of order because _Trainspotting_ was the only one they had in the shop at the truck stop and _Porno_ was easy to find just because the semi-recent film release." Another bite. "I was planning on going to the library today, but I guess that's not gonna happen."

"Want me to pick it up for you?"

"Nah, I don't really feel much like reading. I'm so fucking tired. I have to fill out shit to get a library card anyway," he said. "Does it cost money, do you know?"

"I don't think so."

Drake sneezed three times consecutively, then groaned as an ache ran through his body.

Ricardo picked up a pen from the desk and started twirling it between his fingers. "Talked to Dahlia since we've been back?"

Drake was looking down at his soup. "No," he said softly. "I guess she's really done with me this time."

"Who knows with her?" he said with a snort. After it came out of his mouth, he felt bad. "You deserve better than her. I'm sure that, when things were good, they were really good, but when they were bad...she got really nasty. She's hit you, and some of the things she's said to you... It wasn't a healthy relationship."

"The fuck do you know? When's the last time you were in a relationship or even fucked someone other than me?" Drake was irritated, so these words had slipped out. He immediately wanted to take them back. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I know you wanted me to pretend like it never happened." He mumbled, "Forget I said anything."

Ricardo watched him look down at his soup again. Drake always got defensive when Ricky tried to talk to him about the kind of person Dahlia really was. He believed his friend put up with it because he was used to it. His dad had treated him poorly and, now that he was gone, Drake must have felt the need to find a replacement abuser. Before Drake and Clem had made it official, he'd had a couple other girls over. None had reached girlfriend status — not even friend status really. They basically just fucked, maybe hung around for a little bit and then left. Ricardo remembered one girl in particular. She was just as sweet as could be and he really thought she would be good for Drake. He really needed someone like her, but then Drake started bringing home Clementine. That's when the yelling started, then the frequent break-ups, then the name-calling and put-downs, then the hitting, and these were basically the things she needed to do, she'd learned, to get anything she wanted from him. She took advantage of him and Ricky didn't think he was blind to it. Drake had to be smart enough to know when he was being used, right? Still, it was like he needed Dahlia because she was the closest to Martin that he would ever get and, although he'd hated how his dad had treated him at the time, he'd never known how off-kilter his life would feel without it.

As an attempt to salvage their conversation, Drake quietly said, "The soup's nice. Thanks."

However, it was too late. Ricardo was already pissed that Drake had brought up that night, so he pushed himself out of his chair and left the room. Drake closed his eyes and sighed. He never wanted things to be weird and if he had known that their relationship would end up so rocky and awkward, he probably never would've done it. It didn't seem like a big deal to him, but maybe that's because he had just gotten back from living on the streets and sleeping with a bunch of guys. That night was obviously something that Ricardo was ashamed of and he couldn't seem to get past it.

Drake felt sick to his stomach and his nerves were creeping up on him. He set the soup, which he'd never wanted, on his nightstand, then turned over and curled up into a ball. He pulled his comforter up to his shoulders for comfort. His brain flooded with thoughts about Ricky hating him. Whether he did or not, he knew that his friend was too nice to ever tell him, which made it worse. His mind continued to go deeper and deeper until he had managed to convince himself that everyone hated him, that Ricardo and Julio wanted him out soon and that he would be on the streets again. To further prove that everyone hated him, he thought about his mom, who had moved without letting him know. He recalled Walter, who had kicked him out a total of three times. Ricardo was probably secretly boiling that he'd left him hanging at the bar, plus all of the other stuff that had happened after his return. He remembered what Julio had said to him this morning about being annoying and, despite it all being lighthearted stabs from a guy who wasn't well-rested, he convinced himself that Julio had meant every word.

Drake knew what he was doing, and he knew that he needed to stop himself from having an episode. He needed a distraction. He grabbed his phone off of the nightstand, then opened YouTube. He already knew what to search for: " _deepest dive in the world in one breath_." He'd seen a version of it years ago on Facebook and hadn't been able to get it out of his mind since. Over the last two and a half years of his near sobriety, he started watching this video whenever he got anxious and he found it to be incredibly calming. It was a short, two-minute clip about a guy who was swimming in the deepest pool in the world, called Y-40. Different areas reached lower depths and Drake liked to watch him make his way to the bottom.

Drake lifted his comforter over his head and felt the heat of his trapped, shaky breath warm him as the video played. He liked being wrapped up tight, he liked the dark and he liked curling up in small spaces — but not too small because he was claustrophobic (probably thanks to his dad). He didn't watch this video too often because he didn't want it to lose its calming magic, so he saved it for emergencies like now, when he had no one around to talk to.

The idea of being underwater was enticing. When you're underwater, all the noises of the world are drowned out. It's just you down there and nothing else and Drake wanted to feel that more than anything. The man in the video took his last jump off the final edge. He was in a smaller, circle-shaped part of the pool now and this led to the very bottom of the forty-meter dive. Drake let the music calm his nerves as the swimmer descended into the darkest depths. At times, the camera would aim upwards and show how far from the surface he was.

More than anything, Drake wanted to living there — in the dark, lonely, silent bottom of that pool — for the rest of his life. It was no wonder that this was so calming for him. When he thought about it, this pool had a lot of similar traits as Charlie, his most favorite drug in the world. Whilst tripping on those red pills, he used to always sit in the dark and he would lock himself in his bedroom usually to have his own space. The man looking up at the distorted surface from far away was like when Drake's blurry vision showed him life from the wrong end of a pair of binoculars, but four of those. It was like watching four televisions that would not stop swirling around. Most importantly, though, like the quiet from under all that water, Charlie had made the world around him so still. Taking Triple C's was like laying in a bathtub and having someone stand over you and try to talk to you. You could hear their voices, but you had to pay attention really hard to make out the words. That sounded really nice and Drake didn't mind living at the bottom of that pool even if it left him lonely. At least he would always feel calm down there in the dark.

Drake had a thing for quiet abysses and oblivions. There was another video he used to use to calm himself. It was a clip from the horror movie _Get Out_ , which was a modern take on racism. During it, the main character, who is African American, visits his Caucasian girlfriend's parents for the first time. The mom puts the protagonist under hypnosis and, during which, she tells him to "sink into the floor." He does, and he begins floating in a dark, outer space-like oblivion. Of course, he is freaking out because he's paralyzed and can't do anything to stop it. All around him is darkness and quietness and, in front of him, it's like watching the real world on a super far away television. Despite the character's fear, Drake always felt at peace during this scene and sometimes even a little jealous. How he wished he could go into the deepest parts of his mind and watch while someone else controlled his body. He wouldn't have to stress about anything that way. It would all be someone else's problem.

Unfortunately, Drake didn't watch this scene much anymore. During his harmless Charlie relapses over the past two and a half years, he used to watch this specific clip on YouTube. He'd pretend he was the main character and that the mother was sitting in a chair right across from him, stirring away at the cup of tea. She would talk to him about personal things from his past, then she would tell him to sink into the floor and he would. He would float around in the dark, peaceful oblivion for a while. Looking back at it, it sounded fucking insane, but the drugs made it simple to hallucinate. He could close his eyes and picture himself anywhere, but that was the only place he ever wanted to go. He just wanted to get away from the noises of the world for a while.

Since he had watched that scene so much during Charlie nights, he sadly had to be careful about it because it had become a drug trigger. Just like with the movies he used to watch on repeat, like _Requiem For A Dream, Rent, Trainspotting_ , and _Purgatory House_ , he had to be in the right headspace before he could watch _Get Out_ , or more accurately, just that one clip.

After finishing the dive video, a good chunk of his nervousness had subsided. There was, however, still some anxiety left and, although it wasn't as much as it had been moments ago, even the smallest bit of anxiety was uncomfortable. He started searching through videos of people swimming with sharks. Another thing that eased his mind, and possibly the first thing he had discovered, was looking at things involving sharks. He could remember watching _47 Meters Down_ , a movie about two girls going cage diving to see sharks. The cage gets disconnected from the boat holding it safely in the water and they fall towards the ocean floor. They're unable to swim back up due to the hungry sharks around them. It sounded scary, but this movie had had the opposite affect on Drake. When the cage had first been lowered into the water, everything had looked so calm and peaceful, even when the sharks started swimming by (despite one jump scare). Ever since that moment, Drake had wanted to swim with sharks, even despite how the rest of the movie plays out. Now he watches shark videos on YouTube, but he had to be selective about the ones he clicked on because some people tried to portray sharks as evil, man-eating monsters while others showed them as fascinating creatures. Drake believed in the latter.

Drake clicked on a video that peeked his interested, then immediately exited out of it when he heard the raucous, obnoxious background music. Whether or not he would have liked it on a normal day didn't matter. He needed something softer and smoother to still his rapidly beating heart. He chose a different video and found it to be a much better choice.

* * *

Drake opened his eyes and blinked despite the fact that the only light in his room was that from the window. He looked up and saw Julio standing over his nightstand.

"Shit," the boy whispered although it was a bit too late for that. "Sorry. I was gonna borrow your speakers. I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay." Drake's voice was just as quiet, but because of his fatigue. He rubbed his eyes, then reached over and picked up his phone. "Shit, it's almost six?"

"You have something you have to do?"

"No, I just slept all day."

"Yeah, my brother said something about you being sick. You and your weak immune system."

Julio always teased him about this whenever he got sick because it happened so often. It was probably heavily due to his drug use. Back when he was a frequent abuser, he had practically stayed sick, even during the summer.

"You getting up?" Julio asked when he saw Drake pushing himself up.

"Yeah, I need a cigarette." He let out a sneeze, then coughed a couple times.

"It doesn't sound like you need one," Julio said. "So I'm taking the speakers, yeah?"

"Okay."

"Cool."

Drake followed him out of the room and they separated there. Julio went into his own bedroom while Drake trudged downstairs, each step sending a wave of pain and dizziness through his head. He found Ricardo making dinner in the kitchen and, when the man saw him, he avoided his eyes. He was still clearly pissed at Drake and the boy was too tired to do anything about it, so he just went out front. It was pouring down raining outside, so much so that the roof over the small porch provided little protection. He was already wearing a sweater and jacket since his fever gave him chills, so he put the hood over his head and picked up the damp box of cigarettes that was laying on the rain-soaked banister.

He couldn't sit in his usual spot on the top step, so instead, he just stood there, his body aching and shivering off and on from the freezing gusts of wind and rain. He wrapped his arms around his body and lowered his head, making himself as small as possible to protect himself from the cold.

He had a bit of trouble lighting his cigarette due to his weak and trembling fingers. After he took the first hit, he inhaled deeply, held it, then let it go. Despite it's currently frantic, daunting ways, he loved the rain. It made the world dark and blocked out the sounds of everyday life. Drake was incredibly, incredibly, incredibly grateful to be back home at the Santos house. Although he had quickly learned to adapt to life on the streets, he couldn't imagine lasting out there much longer. He had started to appreciate things a lot more that most people took for granted: a water supply, socks, hairbrushes, tissues, chapstick, uncooked Raman noodles, the dollar menu, spare change, toilet paper, et cetera. He had done pretty well for himself at the truck stop, but there were days when his services weren't wanted, which had forced him to curl up on sidewalks and hold out an empty McDonald's cup in hopes that passersby would take notice and pity him enough to make even the puniest donation. Drake didn't like thinking about those days. He was more ashamed of this than he was the prostituting. At least with the sex work, he was earning his money. Sitting there leaned up against the wall, all hope gone, begging people to help you out — that was degrading. Some did and Drake had thanked them graciously, even if he was only given a couple dimes. Others talked down to him, teased him, or gave him a look of disgust. One guy had even spat on him, but that turned out okay because an older gentleman had seen it happen and offered to buy Drake a meal. However, the worst wasn't when people ridiculed him. The worst was when people wouldn't even look at him. They would ignore him and pretend he wasn't even there — like he was nothing. It's like, when you're no longer a contributing member of society, you give up your right to exist amongst everyone else.

 ***FLASHBACK***

"Could you spare some change, please, sir?"

 _Clang!_

"Thank you, sir." Drake hated asking, but sometimes sitting there with a cup in your hand wasn't enough.

It was close to Christmas. He could tell because of how busy the street was. Traffic was almost at a dead stop and people crowded the sidewalk. One had even tripped over Drake and sent his loot scattering under dozens of shoes earlier. All of these people were so caught up in their own lives and they had every right to be. It was just unfortunate that so few people took pity on him. He was young — probably had so much potential — yet here he was, his body shivering and his teeth chattering. There were only days before Christmas and he had no family to go home to.

And no one gave a shit.

Drake understood, though. He had been on the other side of this before. He'd given something if he could, but there were times when he had walked right past a homeless person without so much as a glance. Maybe this was karma. Karma loved picking on him.

"Could you spare some change, please, ma'am?"

Her nose scrunched up as if she had smelled something disgusting and she didn't slow her pace. In fact, she walked faster.

Drake felt ashamed, but he couldn't afford to let that get to him, so when a different woman approached, he tried again. "Could you-"

She didn't look at him. She only held up her hand, silencing him as she passed.

"Spare some change, sir?"

Again, no eye contact from him either, but he did speak to him. "Get a job, you lousy fucking bum."

Drake felt a lump rising in his throat. He swallowed it down before saying, "Ma'am, could you spare some change, please?"

She was really young, possibly younger than Drake. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips widened into a grin. She turned to her friend as they continued walking by and she laughed obnoxiously, then said something that sounded like the word, "Gross."

Drake looked down at himself. Was she talking about the way he smelled? He probably did smell. He spent most of his time getting high or laying around depressed. He showered, but maybe not as often as he should. Or maybe she was bagging on his clothing? His clothes were dirty, ripped and worn. It was like he was wearing old rags. He'd left his soaked jacket at the park on accident and later came back to find that it was almost molded, so yeah, he probably did smell. It was the middle of December, though; he couldn't not wear the jacket.

He was humiliated. He rested his head in his knees, hurt and discouraged. Still, he held his cup out. His exhales warmed his nose, which felt so frozen that he thought it might fall off. If only his dad could see him now. He could already hear him in the back of his mind, taunting him...laughing at him. His father had always known that Drake would never amount to shit and, despite how desperate he had always been to prove him wrong, here he was. He wondered what his mom would think of him — what Megan and Josh would think of him — if they saw him like this. He already knew what Walter would say; he would tell Drake that he was a disgrace. He wasn't wrong.

"Hey, kid."

Drake lifted his head and saw a man who was in his late thirties or early forties.

"How much?"

The boy knew what he wanted. Despite the fact that the man had already expressed interest and didn't need to be persuaded, Drake combed his fingers through his hair to better his appearance. He gave the man a quick scan and figured he could take him for a decent price. "Twenty-five."

The man laughed as if what Drake had said was a cute joke. "I'll do five."

"Fifteen then."

"I'm willing to do five and if you try to counter me again, I'm walking."

Drake couldn't take that risk, so he nodded his agreement, accepted the five ones that were placed inside his cup, then followed him into the closest alleyway. They walked pretty deep into it before the man stood against the wall next to a large dumpster so that they were hidden from the street. He undid his jeans and pulled out his penis. Drake set down his change cup and got right to work. Within minutes, the boy was finished. He spat the white fluid onto the pavement, then looked up at him to see if he was pleased with his job. The man was chuckling as he fastened his pants. Drake was unsure of what that meant, but he had no time to decipher it before he was hit on the back of his head with a solid object. He fell over and clutched the injured spot, blinking at the pain.

"Looks like he was better than the last one, eh, Barney?" It was a third guy standing up from behind a slew of trash cans he had been crouching behind. He was laughing, too. "Why must you actually make them go through with it before you give us the signal?"

The man who had hit Drake with what he now realized was a garbage can lid picked up the boy's change cup.

Drake lunged for it. "Hey!"

He was intercepted with a hard punch from Barney. Drake fell onto his back, his cheek now bleeding.

"Well? How much is it, Dale?"

Dale counted the change. Unlike the others, he had a more serious tone. His withdrawals were probably starting, leaving him desperate for a fix. "Just under ten dollars without counting the five we put in."

"Don't," Drake said, now understanding what was going on. He also knew that he couldn't really do anything because it was three against one. He was kicking himself. Although Barney looked better than the others, it was still pretty clear that he was an addict and Drake should've seen that. He probably had and was just so desperate and taken aback at the sight of actual dollar bills in his cup that he did it anyway in hopes that it was sincere.

"Still short." He looked down at Drake, then made a grab for his jacket.

"Don't! Let go!"

The young man fought back, but they ganged up on him. Drake struggled against them and was doing pretty well until moments later when he received his first kick. He let go of a scream before receiving another from guy number three.

"Help!" Drake screamed, but just like when he had begged for help right in front of their faces while holding his cup, the people on the street walked right past. Somehow, Drake miraculously managed to crawl far enough away that he was able to get onto his feet.

"Christ, Finn, grab him!"

Drake was slung against the metal dumpster. He winced, then tried to defend himself from the three who surrounded him. They were still trying to get his jacket and, even though he knew that they would get it in the end, he still put up a fight.

"Stop it!"

Drake's cheek was met with a fist. It was so fast that it knocked him onto the ground. He received another hard punch from Barney before Dale took his place and forcefully removed his jacket. The boy was trapped against the dumpster and Finn was kicking him the whole time, keeping him in place.

"Please!" Drake begged, but they didn't care.

When they got what they wanted, Dale and Barney started running down the alleyway. Finn was still kicking away. Neither of his friends realized it until they were halfway to the street.

Dale was the most impatient. "Christ, Finn, let's fucking go!"

Finn gave him one last kick, then backed away panting as he examined his work. He wore a grin on his face and, as he ran off after the others, he howled a loud cheer as if mugging fellow homeless addicts was a sport and he had just won one for his team.

Drake clutched his rib cage with one hand and pushed himself into a sitting position with the other. His face contorted and he was crying now. Hours upon hours of degradation and humiliation — all of that work for nothing. All that time fucking wasted. Now here he sat, still cold and hungry and empty-handed. Thanks to a recent trip to Tad's this morning, at least he wasn't sober, but after what had happened, he could hardly feel the drugs anymore. He probably sat there and cried for a good five minutes before giving himself a self-denigrating pep talk and convincing himself to start over and get what he could before dark. Drake let go of a sob as he pushed himself onto his feet, using the dumpster to steady himself. He slowly limped over to his discarded McDonald's cup and checked to see if they had left anything behind. Of course they hadn't. Every last penny was gone. He sniffled and wiped his eyes, then made his way through the alley and back to his spot on the sidewalk.

He winced as he slid his back down the wall, clutching his side. "Fuck," he whined.

Although he'd thought that his day couldn't get any worse, he felt the first of many droplets of water on his arm. He looked up and saw more falling. He even noticed a snowflake. It was fucking sleeting! He wanted to find someplace warm to take keep dry, but he'd probably just take shelter in the tunnel on the playground at the park because, even though it wouldn't keep him warm, it protected him from the rain. If he started now, maybe he could take cover before the weather got too bad. His stomach growled and convinced him otherwise. It had been two or three weeks since he had left home and food was scarce. He was beginning to have hunger pangs, but they weren't immobilizing yet. He feared the pain he would feel if he went one more day without eating. He could always go back down the alleyway and dig through the dumpster and neighboring trash cans — this wouldn't be the first time — but he knew he wouldn't find Charlie in there and he wasn't sure if Tad would be recharged after the morning they'd had. He had to stick this out and get some fucking money. At least enough for one thing, whether it was a box or a pack of Ramen or some cheap alcohol. He refused to go back to the park empty-handed.

It was freezing and he was already quivering so much that he stuttered. He wrapped his arms around himself, unable to stop the shaking and teeth-chattering. Even when he physically tried, he couldn't do it. Maybe now that he was jacket-less and shoeless, people would take pity on him. Once again, he held out his empty cup and it vibrated with his trembling fingers.

His voice cracked because he still had that lump in his throat from crying and it was already almost impossible to talk due to the steady gusts of wind that felt like knives stabbing into his body. "C-c-could you sp-spare s-some ch-change, p-p-please, s-s-sir?"

The man kept walking.

 ***END FLASHBACK***

Drake sniffled up the snot that was starting to drip from his nostrils as he put his cigarette out in the ashtray. He was shaking from the cold when he walked back inside. Still, Ricardo didn't acknowledge his existence.

He hated that his best friend was mad at him and he honestly wasn't sure what it was about. Was it because he mentioned _that_ night again? Why was Ricky having such a hard time with it? Drake had managed to move on with no issue, but despite talking it out the day after it had happened, Ricardo still acted strange around him. Because of who Drake was, he blamed himself. He knew that it was crazy to, but he couldn't help but feel bad about himself. Ricardo seemed to regret that night more than anything Drake had seen before and he acted like it left him with PTSD or something. Drake had never been someone's biggest regret before — well, except for his dad's, but that was different. This was in a sexual kind of way. Although he knew in his heart that these taunting thoughts were false, his brain kept telling him that the scars and flaws all over his body had turned Ricky off, that he was damaged goods, that he hadn't performed well, et cetera, until his mind convinced him, like always, that he was worthless. He didn't tell Ricardo any of this, though, because then his friend would feel guilty and conceal his own feelings to avoid the possibility of sending Drake into a depression spiral that led to another relapse. He wanted the man to be able to feel what he wanted to, but he just wanted to understand why. What had been so bad about that night? What was wrong with Drake?

The boy approached the kitchen island cautiously. He watched in silence for a short while as Ricardo cleaned off the counter. He had just put some chicken and white cheese enchiladas in the oven for dinner and now he was putting the ingredients he had used away and wiping down his prep space. It didn't take him long, so when he finished, he started to head upstairs for a quick minute, probably to get away from Drake.

Before he made it past the second step, the younger stopped him. "Could we talk for a minute?"

"About?"

"I just... I didn't mean to piss you off."

"I'm not mad at you." However, his voice said otherwise.

"I feel like I did something wrong that night and you're not telling me."

"You didn't," the man said. "And I don't wanna talk about that night. I've told you that."

"Maybe if you do, you know, just one time then-"

"I said no."

Ricardo was distant and Drake had never seen him that way before. He had never treated him like this and he hated it. If the man would just say what he was feeling, then things could get better between them. All he had to say was, "You sucked in bed" or "You're not very attractive with your clothes off" or whatever it was that had messed him up so badly. Drake could take it. He'd spent his entire life dealing with being talked down to and teased.

"I just wanna understand," Drake said.

"There's nothing to understand."

The boy was getting irritated, so his voice went from meek and cautious to desperate. "Just tell me what's going on," he begged. "I'm really confused and our friendship is really messed up and I don't know what I did and why it's such a big deal to you that we got drunk and experimented. So what if we fucked? Why does that have to change th-"

"Wait, what?" It was a new voice.

Drake turned and saw Julio enter from the foyer. He turned to see Ricardo's reaction and his face expressed betrayal and embarrassment.

"You two...had sex?! Like...together?" Julio was shocked by the news. "Wait, so are you...are you both, like...gay for each other or something?"

With this, Ricardo turned and quickly made his way up the stairs.

"Ricky-" Drake tried, but he was gone. He sighed.

Julio was still talking. "No one ever tells me anything in this house."

* * *

Drake had wanted to be alone, but Julio wouldn't allow that after the bombshell he had dropped, so he'd followed him outside — to the back porch this time since it was bigger and provided more protection from the still-pouring rain.

"So, wait. Who came on to whom?" Julio asked.

Drake didn't want to throw Ricardo under the bus, so he said, "It doesn't matter." He didn't want to say too much because clearly Ricky was super embarrassed about it, but he felt like it was best to catch Julio up on what was going on because secrets, obviously, were toxic.

"Bullshit it doesn't matter," Julio said.

Drake was sitting and chain-smoking all of his cigarettes. He had his feet pulled up on his chair and he was wearing one of Ricardo's old hoodies that the man had given him. He had his knees to his chest, and the hoodie, since it was larger than Drake, wrapped around his legs, too, like a blanket. He rested his chin on his forearm sullenly.

"Who bottomed?" Julio was still asking a thousand questions as he tried to wrap his mind around this new information.

"We both did."

Julio took a swig from his beer. "Did you go down on him?"

"Yeah."

"Was that too personal? I'm just — this is all new to me. I'm curious, like, to know how it works, but not curious in _that_ way — to actually wanna do it myself."

"It's okay."

"Did he go down on you?" the boy asked.

"No."

Julio reached over and took one of Drake's cigarettes. He lit it. "Was it good?" he asked as a cloud of smoke left his lips.

"It was for me. I thought it was for him," he said. "I don't know what I did to make him act this way."

"I doubt it's you," Julio replied. "My brother's always been very masculine. I think he was curious, like he said during Never Have I Ever, and he wanted to experiment. He's probably got some things to work out about what happened, but I don't think any of that has to do with you."

"I feel like..." Drake knew the boy wouldn't like what he was going to say next, but he said it anyway. "I feel like I should go."

"Drake..." Julio said with disappointment, proving the boy right.

"I just think Ricky needs space." He didn't say what he really thought, which was that the man hated him and wanted him to leave.

"He has enough space. You know he wouldn't want you to leave."

"He wouldn't want me to _use_ ," Drake corrected. "And I won't."

"How do you know that?"

Drake couldn't give him a good answer. "It doesn't have to be for a long time. Just until he sorts things out with himself." To further convince Julio as to why this was the best option for everyone, he said, "Your brother can't even stand to look at me. He won't stay in the same room as me and he won't talk to me about anything."

"Where would you even go?"

"Don't worry about that."

"I don't want you living on the streets again."

Drake didn't want Julio to worry about him and his well-being. "I won't be on the streets. I'll be fine. I'll find someone to stay with. Maybe for a week or so," he said. "And I'll text you and let you know where I am, and I promise that I'll come back home before resorting to the streets again, so there's no need to worry."

"I hear you," Julio said, "but I still don't think it's a good idea. You aren't even a week sober yet. This is a very fragile time for you. Couch-hopping and instability is not gonna be good for your sobriety."

"Neither is staying here and feeling like one of my best friends hates my guts."

Julio sighed, then took another drink. After he swallowed, he stared at Drake, who accepted his challenge and met his eyes. Julio could see that he was being honest and this wasn't some ploy that he was using to get high.

"You swear you'll keep me updated on where you are?"

"I swear," Drake vowed. "I'm not gonna mess up this time."

Julio let out another sigh. "Alright. Fine."

* * *

"Where have you been? It's been a minute since I've heard from you," Gemini said as he closed his bedroom door behind Drake.

The boy sat down on the foot of the bed. "I know. Sorry. I had a bad relapse recently."

"Shit," the boy said. "For how long?"

"Two-ish months," Drake said, looking down at his phone.

 **Julio: ricky just found out u left. he's pissed at me for lettin i go**

 **Julio: *u**

"Damn," Gem said.

 **Drake: did utrll him were i am**

"Thanks for letting me stay," Drake said. "If you get tired of me, just tell me. It won't hurt my feelings."

"You know I will, babe," he said.

"Things have just been a little rough at home."

 **Julio: i didn't know if u wanted me to**

 **Drake: ill tect him**

Drake sent Ricardo a text message explaining that he felt it best to leave for a short period of time. He told him he was staying at Gem's for the time being, gave him the address and Gemini's phone number and told him who else lived in the house. Maybe this would earn some of Ricardo's trust. Although Gemini smoked weed and drank, he didn't do much else. For a short while, he used meth when he was dating Rhinestone (before Drake had even met them many summers ago) because he wanted to get skinny (despite being pretty average in size), but he had only smoked it and he stopped before it ever became an issue for him.

"Yoo-hoo! Earth to Drake!"

The boy was aware that he was being rude. He set his phone down on the bed. "Sorry," he apologized. "What'd you say?"

"One of Tre's friends is staying here. He got kicked out of his house and sleeps on the couch, so you can sleep in here," he said.

"Thanks," Drake said. "I can sleep on the floor and fuck off whenever you want space."

"What even is space?" Gem laughed. "There's five people living in this house and all our friends go in and out at all hours of the day and night. That won't bother you, will it?"

"No, just, um..." He wanted to ask if they used drugs because he was at such a vulnerable time in his sobriety, but he didn't get the chance before his phone rang.

 **Drive boy, dog boy**  
 **Dirty numb angel boy**

Drake looked up at Gemini. "Sorry." He picked it up when his friend gestured his permission and he saw that it was Ricardo. He answered. "Hey," he said rather awkwardly.

Ricardo jumped right into it. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"I knew you'd try to stop me."

"Of course I would, Drake. You've only been sober for four days — not even four days. Today's not yet over and you were still pretty fucked up the first day you quit using. You've been sober for two and a half days. You know you shouldn't be putting yourself through big changes during the beginning of your sobriety."

Drake almost laughed. "Big changes like what? Fucking my best friend and then losing him because he won't tell me what the fuck is going on with him?"

"It's not this big of a deal."

"Obviously, it is," the boy countered. "Otherwise, you would tell me."

"It has nothing to do with you, though."

"Then why can't you even look me in the eye?"

"Because I don't wanna talk about it," Ricky said, "but that's no reason to leave."

"You are clearly uncomfortable around me. You shouldn't have to feel like you can't walk around in your own home without whatever negative emotions come with seeing me there, too. I just feel like it was best for me to leave."

"That's ridiculous."

"You don't have to worry about me," the boy said. "You know where I am. You know who I'm with. Gem, you'll rat on me if I use?" he asked, addressing the eavesdropper.

"In a heartbeat." And it was the truth.

"See?" Drake said. "I'm all good here. Just get your shit together and I'll come back home. In the meantime, don't worry about me, alright?"

Ricardo hesitated. "You'll call if you feel like you're gonna slip up?"

"Of course."

"No matter what time it is? Day or night?"

"I will," he assured. "I'll be fine here. Really."

There was more silence. He knew all of these promises that the boy was making meant nothing. He had sworn to clean up plenty of times before. Minds are made up in seconds. If he wanted to use and had no one around to talk him out of it, he was going to use. Ricardo wasn't ready to let him go. Drake's last relapse had really messed him up. He'd disappeared in the middle of the night and Ricky had had no idea where he had gone to. For months, Drake had been missing. Who knew what he was doing, if he was okay, if he was even alive? Ricardo couldn't take going through that again.

Finally, the man spoke up, quieter because he was revealing his emotions. "I don't wanna lose you again."

"You're not gonna lose me, Ricky."

That nickname — the one that only Drake got away with. He had so much love for this boy and he couldn't bear to see him throw his life away again. He never wanted things to come to this.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," he said.

"I know."

"Do you need any cash for food or anything? Does Gemini want anything for letting you stay there?"

"Julio gave me enough for food so I'm good, thanks."

"Alright," the man said. "Call me if you need me."

"You, too. You know you can always talk to me."

When their phone call was done, Drake set his cell down. "Sorry," he apologized.

"You slept with Ricardo?"

"Yeah, we were drunk. We were both pretty into it, but now he's really embarrassed about it."

"Hmm."

Ugh, that high-pitched "hmm." Rhinestone always did it, too, and it was one of the most annoying things ever. Any time either of them assumed something about you, like as if you had just told on yourself somehow, they would give you a "hmm."

Drake was baited, though. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just interesting."

Drake remembered back in the day when Rhinestone and Gem would swear up and down that he was gay. Maybe they had been right. He wasn't so sure anymore. He definitely preferred women — that was for sure — but if a guy came up to him, would he really turn it down? It was pretty fifty-fifty. Did he see himself in a relationship with a guy? No, not at all. Could he see himself having sex with a man again? It wasn't impossible. It was just a fuck and Drake liked sex a lot. It's not so confusing when you look at it this way. What rattled his brain was when people put a bunch of labels on things. Was he bisexual? Possibly. Now that he thought about it, he didn't fully understand what the word meant. In every scenario, he preferred a girl. Never would he seek out a guy to have sex with, but if the opportunity presented himself, there was a chance that he wouldn't decline, but it's not because he wanted to lay with a man. It's because he was indifferent about the fact that it _was_ a man and he just wanted sex. He didn't know what that was called, but at this point, he was done with labels. It only complicated things. He was going to fuck whomever he wanted to.

"So look, we were all gonna go out to the club tonight. Did you bring something other than pj's?"

Drake hated declining his offer, but he said, "Actually, I'm sick. I've been running a fever all day. I was kinda hoping I could just sleep?" He said it as if he was asking for permission.

"Oh, come on." Gem grabbed the boy's hand and pulled him off of the bed. "It'll be super fun. I've got some things that'll look super hot on you."

* * *

The nightclub was filled with gays and lesbians. Drake didn't know what he had expected since he'd come with Gem and his roommates. He didn't mind, though. He was already on his fourth beer and the best part was that it was all free. However, he was in a somewhat sour mood just because he was sick, he didn't want to be here, he had a lot of shit going on at home and he was missing Clementine a lot. Someone would buy him a beer, they'd get to chatting and, because of his downer mood and purposely unattractive answers, the guy always ended up walking away. Just when he was getting used to his isolation, a man close to Ricardo's age crawled into the seat next to him.

"Two shots of tequila, please," he said to the bartender, having to yell over the loud dance music.

Seconds later, the man set two shot glasses onto the counter and filled them to the brim with alcohol. The brunette next to Drake picked one up, then slid the other one in front of his neighbor with a flirtatious smile. Drake hated tequila — he hated anything other than beer really — but he didn't know how to say no to alcohol, so he picked up his glass.

"Thanks," he said, then he tossed it back. His face twisted and contorted at its repugnance, then he coughed.

The drink buyer grinned as he watched him, his eyes sparkling with his own drunkenness and lust. "My name's Josh."

Just hearing that name again sent a wave of sadness through him. "Drake," he replied.

Josh was a little on the chubby side, but he was cute-teddy-bear chubby and he had a long beard that matched his brown hair. He had a hipster style going, complete with lensless neon glasses, a bowtie and suspenders. He wore a purple button-down shirt and black slacks, followed by a pair of purple Converse. "Wanna dance?"

Drake turned and looked at the dance floor behind himself. He saw Gemini, dressed in drag, grinding on some guy he had just met. His roommates were crowded around him as well, each with his own partner — sometimes partners — like one big orgy. Gem caught him looking and started to make his way over to the bar where he sat.

"I'm good, thanks," Drake said.

"Hey, you two!" It was Gem. "What's going on over here?"

"Just hanging out," Drake responded with a shrug. His voice was unenthusiastic and he felt bad that he couldn't muster up some sort of fake cheer since Gemini was letting him stay at his house for free.

Apparently he knew the other guy. "Josh, Drake's one of those guys who likes to party," he said, giving a wink.

"Ah." Josh met Drake's eyes with a mischievous smirk. "I'll be right back then."

"No, I-" Drake's attempt at stopping him went unheard because the man was already gone.

Gem hopped up onto his stool to keep Drake company and make sure that he wouldn't bail. "Stop being such a downer."

He felt guilty. "Sorry, I'm just-"

He heard his friend order two Fireballs, another drink he hated. He sighed, but getting drunk would make him feel a lot better. Gem put the shot into his hand, then clinked their glasses together with a wink. Drake gulped it down, his face once again contorting.

"Fuck," he said.

Josh returned. "I got us something." He opened his palm and showed off the two rainbow colored pills.

Drake shook his head. "I'm good."

"Oh, come on," Josh pushed.

"Don't be such a square," Gem added. "Live a little."

It wasn't like it was a big deal. He was addicted to Triple C's. He had no problem with ecstasy. Who knows how long his friend planned on keeping him here? He might as well have some fun. The two shots were starting to kick in and, after all those beers, he was feeling pretty good. He reached for one of the pills, but Josh pulled his hand away. The man smiled, then picked up a pill and placed it on his own tongue. As the alcohol swam through his head, Drake couldn't help but laugh. This guy was fucking smooth. However, Drake was pretty slick himself. He grabbed the other pill and put that one, too, on Josh's tongue, then he leaned forwards and let a starry-eyed Josh pass them both his way. When they pulled apart, both Gemini and the hipster were breathless. Drake used the last of his beer to gulp down the two ecstasy pills, then he slid out of his stool.

"Alright, fuck it. Let's dance."

* * *

"Huuullggh!" Drake spat into the toilet, then started panting as Gemini rubbed his back.

"I think you overdid it, sweetie," he said.

"I'm so sick," was all Drake could say in response.

"Do you think that's all?" When Drake nodded, Gemini helped him stand. He gave him some mouthwash, then he wet a washcloth. "Let's go lay down."

The young man followed his friend into his room. Exhausted, he laid down, his entire world spinning.

Gem set a trash can next to Drake's side of the bed. "Here." He put the cold rag on the boy's forehead.

"Thanks," Drake weakly said on an exhale of breath.

He tried to sleep, but when he closed his eyes, he felt like he was tumbling backwards out of a helicopter. That made him even more sick, so he finally gave up and pushed himself into a sitting position. He saw Gem in front of a mirror. "What are you doing?"

"Taking off my make-up," he answered. "Can't sleep?" When Drake confirmed this, he said, "You want me to turn on a movie?"

"No, that'll make me even more nauseous."

He pushed himself up, then made his way over to Gemini, who was sitting in front of his vanity. It was white, gold and light pink, which matched the color scheme of the rest of his room, and the rectangular mirror was traced with light bulbs like you would see in the movies. The tabletop was littered with different tubes and jars and sticks of make-up, but it was organized neatly. He had a plethora of brushes and combs and other types of hair products and even some hot rollers. When Drake approached, he scooted over so that the boy could sit with him on the furry pink bench. His mouth was open in a silly manner as he carefully wiped away his mascara. Drake picked up a thin, dark red pencil, which he assumed was eyeliner, then started twirling it around his fingers like a drumstick.

It was then that he realized Gem had the radio one. He recognized the song: Gwen Stefani's "Luxurious." Kenzly had been into her music when they were much younger. He missed Kenzly. It had been months since he'd last spoken to or even seen her. He felt bad about it now, but when he'd started dating Clem, she had given him an ultimatum. Either she would break up with him or he had to stop "associating himself" with Kenzly. It was because she knew about their history and maybe she feared that he might cheat on her. He understood in a way, but at the same time, he regretted going along with it. Kenzly was one of his best friends. Throughout everything, she'd stuck by him. Years ago, when his whole life had blown up and everyone found out what he had been hiding, she was the one person who never changed.

"Do you think I should start talking to Kenzly again?" He drunkenly blurted out.

Gem glanced at him through the mirror. "Because you and Dahlia aren't together anymore?" He put his attention back on his own reflection. "I mean, I don't know. I didn't think you should've ever stopped talking to her in the first place. That was kinda dumb, not to mention rude."

"I know. I made a mistake."

"I get it, though — why you did it — but you have to start sticking up for yourself, especially in relationships. Otherwise, the other person is just gonna walk all over you. I don't mean to assume — and tell me if I'm wrong — but I think you let Dahlia do it because your dad did it. It's like you moved from one abusive relationship to another."

Drake didn't take offense to his blunt perspective. He wanted to protest, but he honestly didn't know if Gem was wrong and he was too drunk to come up with some sort cohesive reasoning.

"Back when Rhinestone and I were dating — well, I mean, you know how that went. It wasn't healthy. He knew how to play off of my emotions and he knew what buttons to press in order to get the reaction he wanted. I still love him, of course. I think a lot of it might've had to do with the drugs he was using. I couldn't keep putting myself through that anymore, so we ended things."

Drake noticed that, when Gem looked back on his relationship with Rhinestone, he always blamed his partner in a way. When Rhinestone recounted the story, he threw Gemini under the bus, but he tossed in bits of self-blame to make you think he was being the most honest so that you would, therefore, lean towards his side. He was a master of the art in that respect. Even Drake had fallen for it until he'd learned who Rhinestone really was. He still loved them both and he still talked to both of them, but he didn't let himself get caught up in their bullshit and drama.

"Maybe it's not a good idea," Drake said, "to pop out of the blue and apologize. She probably hates me now."

Gemini knew Kenzly and had hung out with her several times, but they weren't friends that would hang out without the company of Drake. Therefore, he didn't know who she was on a personal level, but he refused to believe that she could ever stay mad at Drake.

"Weren't you two best friends? She'll definitely be salty, but honey, you've gotta start somewhere. I always thought you two were perfect for each other. I don't know how neither of you see it." He quickly corrected himself. "Obviously, I ship you with myself above anyone else, but deep down, I know we're not compatible. The infatuation would wear off after a couple weeks, but I'd hold on to it because of how hot the sex would be until I couldn't take it anymore and ended things by blowing up on you without telling you why. You'd get really sad because, obviously, you'd be madly in love with me, so you'll end up killing yourself, leaving me to feel really guilty about the whole thing. It's just too messy."

Drake had his hand resting on his head and his elbow on the vanity. He wore a grin as he gazed up at Gem with his drunken, sparkling eyes. "Wow, you really thought that one out."

"Well, I'm a Gemini and you're a Cancer. We'd never work out."

"I don't really believe in reading the signs or whatever," Drake said.

Gemini seemed offended, but he went right back to doing what he had been doing, which was combing through his hair. "I don't know why. Your sign fits you perfectly."

"What, a crab?"

"No, the meaning behind it."

"Bullshit."

Gemini gave him a look that expressed how excited he was to prove him wrong. He picked up his cell phone, did a quick search, then started reading. " _Those born under the zodiac sign Cancer need to be needed. They have a great desire to feel loved and appreciated in every part of their lives. This is needed so that they can develop a sense of security and identity. To the Cancer zodiac sign, their sense of home is very important to their feeling of safety and comfort. They find it rather difficult to achieve unless they feel safe in their home. They are talented at developing home environments for people that are close to them — in both an emotional and physical sense. The positives: nurturing, supportive, healing, compassionate, unconditionally loving. The negatives: dependent, indirect, moody, passive aggressive, unable to let go._ Now if that doesn't define you, then I don't know what does."

"Passive aggressive, huh?"

Gemini rolled his eyes at the passively aggressive way that Drake had said those words. "Trust me. It fits."

Drake took the phone from him. "Okay then. What's yours?"

"Gemini. Obviously," he said in a snobby way, but he meant nothing by it. That's just who he was.

Drake almost immediately realized that he was still too drunk to see straight, so it was impossible for him to read anything. "Fuck."

"I mean, basically, it's not that we're incompatible. A relationship between us would just take a lot of extra work. Cancers have trouble communicating clearly, but communicating clearly is what defines us Geminis. We're almost opposites."

"That's too bad," Drake said sarcastically.

"I know. It just crushes you right in the soul, doesn't it?" he said, playing along.

"Totally. I'm never gonna get over this."

"Oh, sweetie..."

"I'm gonna be depressed and alone for the rest of my life."

"How will you ever manage without me?"

"I don't know. There's no way. Guess I better go ahead and kill myself to end my suffering." With that, Drake stood and carefully supported himself on passing objects to avoid falling. He left the room, then closed the door behind him.

He made his way down the hall and into the bathroom, where he relieved himself. After washing his hands, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror. It was blurry because of his drunkenness. He knew he would later have to tell Ricardo and Julio about tonight. Ricky would probably be disappointed about the ecstasy, but not mad, and Julio might freak out a little. Drake had never had problems with ecstasy before. In fact, the last time he had taken any was at Marcellas' club almost three years ago. Revisiting the drug tonight was amazing. He had felt so alive on that dance floor. He had been surrounded by a bunch of sweaty guys who were on more than just ecstasy and alcohol. They were all dancing pretty dirty and DrunkDrake had decided that it would be fun to get his "date" Josh all riled up. He couldn't fully remember everything he had done. He knew he and Gemini had danced together pretty provocatively and he could recall sensually making out with one of Gem's roommates.

At one point, he'd had his back to Josh, but he was pressed against him and was guiding the stranger's hands up his body. He remembered feeling a hard bulge in his dance partner's pants and, the next thing he knew, they were in Gem's roommate's car. He couldn't remember who had initiated it, but he felt like he himself had. They made out for a while, then he blew him, but he didn't know why. Maybe it was the drugs and drinks. Maybe Ricardo had been right and he just did things because he knew the other person wanted it. He didn't get his dick sucked in return and he didn't care to. Being used for sex was such a normalcy for him. It was as if, when he felt Josh's erection, he had known what was expected of him. Pleasuring him when he wanted just came naturally when he had done that exact thing for Tad. When he'd lived with the coach all those years ago, he had stopped whatever he was doing any time the man approached him with a need. Sometimes it felt like it was all he was good for. At the truck stop, he had done whatever those men had asked. He was just an object. Shit, if Gem came in here and asked him for a blowjob, he'd probably give it to him. He felt like he owed everyone so much for all the shit he had put them through and he was making up for it the only way he knew how — the only way his dad had taught him. Maybe Gemini had been right about the signs and the fact that Drake needed to feel needed. Maybe his dad was right and he'd always known that his son was a worthless, cock-sucking slut. Despite the fact that he was wearing a shirt, Drake's eyes moved to the space underneath his right breast. It's where he had been branded and, although he'd gotten it covered with an encouraging tattoo, he knew those words would always be burned into his skin. He could never get rid of it — not completely. Even though it was hidden, he knew what was there and he knew what his dad felt about him and, for the rest of his life, he would carry that around with him.

When Drake met his own gaze in the mirror, he found that he was crying. His vision had already been so blurry and his face so warm due to drunkenness that he hadn't noticed before, but he had tears streaming down his cheeks.

 **-and tears boy**  
 **And all in your innerspace boy**  
 **You had**  
 **Hands girl boy**  
 **And steel boy-**

"Drake," Gem said from the other side of the bathroom door. "This is the second time your phone has rang."

The boy sniffled as he wiped away the wetness from his eyes. He opened the door and took the phone without making eye contact, then he closed it again. He looked at the screen and saw that it was Julio calling. "Fuck." He wasn't ready to tell him about how he'd spent his first night away from home and he definitely didn't want to have to do that while going through a mental breakdown because it would all just prove that Julio was right all along about him leaving — prove that he was fucking hopeless on his own. He knew he'd better answer, though, because not answering might make him fear that he had relapsed. Again, he sniffled, then cleared his throat. He slid the green button, then put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Did I wake you?"

"No, I was up."

"Up doing what?" he said suspiciously. It was obvious that he had Drake on speaker phone and was busy doing something else. It sounded like he was brushing his teeth.

"I went out with Gem."

"Oh, well, I was calling to make sure you were awake. You didn't sleep at all? Shit, this is really gonna suck for you."

Drake was still drunk from the alcohol and, therefore, confused. "What is?"

"Our morning jog. Did you think we were just gonna give up on a goal we set just because you're not staying here?"

 _Fuck._ "Julio, I'm sick."

"But well enough to stay out with Gem all night. If you can do that, then you can do a twenty minute exercise." Julio was adamant on this and part of Drake thought that it was because he wanted to see for himself if Drake had truly stayed clean. Maybe he did owe it to him.

"I'm kinda drunk still," he admitted.

"Well, you better sober up because I'm gonna be there in thirty." He spat toothpaste into his sink. "I gotta go. I'm gonna finish getting ready. Be dressed when I get there." Before Drake could protest further, he hung up.

"Fuck."

* * *

Drake had changed into a pair of sweatpants he usually used as pajamas and he had on a tee and jacket. He had cooked a couple sausage patties despite the fact that he was nauseous and not at all hungry. They were super greasy and he hoped they would aid in sobering him up and clearing his vision a bit. It had been quite a while since his last drink, so by the time Julio got there, he felt as though he had come down enough to run.

They had just begun their work-out when Drake asked, "So how are you?" He was worried about his best friend's well-being now that his closest supporters were forced to separate.

"I'm okay." Like Drake, he was already breathing heavily.

Drake cracked a small smile and glanced his way as he ran. He repeated himself because Julio often said bullshit like that the first time he was asked about his well-being. "So how are you?"

The corners of Julio's lips twisted upwards. "It's great. I finally don't have to see your fucking face every second of everyday. Totally enjoying my Drakation."

"Asshole." But he laughed. "Did you just say Drakation?"

"Yeah. My vacation from Drake. My Drakation."

"Wow, you've got jokes," he replied. "How long did it take you to come up with that one?"

"About two hours after you left," was his answer. "But for real, though, it kinda sucks. I mean, it's only been one night, so I'm not moping around crying all day and missing you. I guess I'm just more worried about you honestly."

"I'll be fine. Nothing's gonna happen."

"I know you feel that way now, but you and I both know how fast and hard a craving can hit. I'm not saying that I don't trust Gemini to talk you out of using if that happens. I just think me, you and my brother had a really good system going." Julio hated being serious even more than the other boy, so he had to lighten the mood. "You just had to go and be so irresistible — always flaunting around, flipping your hair and biting your lip. Clearly, my brother's into that kinda shit."

"Apparently." He was short with his answer because he was so out of breath and he felt like shit. He was sick, plus he had a hangover, and those didn't mix well.

"Have you guys ever done anything before? Like, even flirting or anything?"

"No."

"So it just came out of nowhere?"

"Yeah, he just came in my room because he couldn't sleep and we talked for a second, and then we just...kissed."

"So he came onto you," Julio realized.

"I didn't say that."

"He went to your room, which means he knew what he was doing and what would happen. This was all premeditated."

"You think?"

"I think he's in love with you, dude."

"Fuck off." He knew that it was a joke, but it was a sensitive topic for Drake just because he had no idea what was going on in Ricardo's head. He decided to change the subject. He approached the situation bluntly. "So I took some e last night."

"Drake..." He was clearly disappointed.

"Don't freak out, okay? I mean, I've never had a problem with it before and you know I would tell you if I felt like it was going to become one."

Julio still wasn't too thrilled about it, but he let it go because he appreciated that Drake had told him the truth about it. If he was being secretive about it, then it was an issue.

"Also, I kinda blew some guy I just met."

"Okay..." Julio nodded his head slowly and squinted as if trying to understand. "Why...?"

"I don't know."

"Like...are you gay or bi or something? Because you can tell me. I'd still love you either way."

"I feel like I like girls. I don't know why I keep doing stuff with guys. When that stuff with me and Ricky happened, he said he thinks I just go along with things whether I really want them or not because I've always had to do that to survive. Ever since he said that, I've just been obsessing over it. What we did was consensual, but still, I don't know why I did it. I just kinda went with it," Drake said. "And last night...I feel like I was the one who initiated it. I was pretty drunk, but I don't remember him asking or anything. I think I just led him to the car and just, you know...did it. I didn't even care for him to do it back. I just knew what he wanted and knew he had a boner and I felt like he wanted me to help him out so I did." Talking so much was hard to do while jogging, but he already had a lot to say to his best friend despite only being separated for a few hours. "I'm not gonna lie, though. I knew where it was gonna go with him because I was trying to turn him on, but I don't know why I was doing that. Gem thinks it's because I need to feel needed. I don't know. I'm all fucked up."

"Shit," Julio said, taking a moment to take it all in. "Maybe he's right. Maybe you feel kinda insecure? You don't think it's just because you're into guys?"

"Not really."

"It's probably just some confusing shit spawning from your daddy issues then."

Drake's feet dragged against the concrete and he almost tripped twice. He could feel a wave of nausea hit harder than the ones before. "Dude, I gotta stop." He panted as he slowed.

Julio turned and walked over to him as his friend hunched over. "Come on. We just started." When he saw Drake put the back of his hand over his mouth, he asked, "Are you gonna throw up?"

Drake didn't have time to answer this. He leaned into the bushes nearby and hurled up last night's alcohol.

Julio turned his back to him and waited for him to finish. He waved sarcastically at an obviously disgusted jogger running in the opposite direction on the other side of the street. "Hi. How are ya?"

Drake sniffled. "Fuck," he breathed, then spat. He straightened and wiped off his mouth.

"You alright?" Julio asked.

"I feel like shit."

"We'll just walk the rest of the way. I didn't even have time to stretch anyway."

Drake rejoined Julio, his pace slow. He pulled out a cigarette, then lit it.

Julio saw this. "How on earth?"

"Well, my mouth tastes bad."

"And you wonder why you can't fucking breathe."

The young man shrugged it off and he took another drag.

"So Maurice from Flux messaged me — said he had a spot open this Saturday. He asked if we would wanna make a reappearance."

"What did you say?"

"I said I'd talk to you and get back with him."

"I don't know," Drake said.

"Come on. I think it'll be really great for us to jump back into an old hobby."

"We don't even have a drummer anymore since Stevie moved."

"We'll just do an acoustic set or something. It's no big deal."

"I haven't picked up a guitar in years. They said I wouldn't be able to play after I broke my wrist."

"But have you tried, though?"

"Julio, I've been out of practice for three years at least."

"Well, all you have to do is sing. I still have Stavros on Facebook. I'll ask him if he can play guitar for us."

Drake remembered him. He hadn't liked him at the time, but that was only because Julio and Stevie had replaced him with Stavros as their lead singer and guitarist during the summer his life had turned to shit. "Maybe you can just get him to play the gig with you."

Julio could tell that none of his reasons were actually why Drake was so hesitant. "What's up?"

"I just feel like Saturday's so soon."

"Seriously, what's up?" he asked again.

Drake caved. "I just haven't been to Flux in forever and, when I was there, I was always fucked up."

"Things are different now. You're clean."

"I just have a lot of triggering memories from there."

"I'll be there with you, though," Julio said. "Maurice said he lost a lot of business when we stopped performing there. People loved us, Drake. This used to be our dream, remember? We created something and we put ourselves out there and they loved our music. They wanna see a reunion show."

"It was never about the music. They showed up to watch my life spiral out of control," he said. "Don't you remember how they all cheered when I'd pop pills on stage or pass around a blunt or just fucking lay down and let you sing because I was too fucked up to move? They were all watching my life fall apart and it's embarrassing." He took hits from his cigarette more often because he started to feel anxious talking about this subject.

"Then show them they're wrong," Julio persuaded. "Show them how well you're doing." Since his friend was silent, he continued talking. "Maurice said he can spread the word and there will be a full house. A lot of the old audience will come. You can prove to them that you've changed."

Drake still wasn't thrilled about it. "I guess."

"But look, I don't want you to do this and then it triggers a relapse or anything, so if it's really not gonna be good for you, don't do it. But if you're just scared of putting yourself out there again, I mean, so am I, but I know it's no good crawling back into my shell. This is a good opportunity, so just think about it and really question why you're so afraid of it. Just sleep on it today and then you can tell me your answer later, but I do have to get back with Maurice by tonight."

"Okay."

"Oh, also, I brought your book. I didn't know if you would wanna read in your downtime, like when Gem goes to work or something. It's in my car."

"Thanks, but I don't know if I'll get the chance to read. I feel like the only time I'll be able to sleep is when Gem's at work."

"Does he do meth like Rhinestone did?"

"No, he just sleeps four or five hours after work and wakes up ready to go clubbing and then sleeps another four or five hours and wakes up to go to work. I can't do that shit."

"Damn."

"I know. I don't know how he does it."

"Well, I mean, our door is always open. You know that."

"I know," Drake said. "I just think I need to go my own way for a little while."

"That hasn't exactly worked out for your before," Julio said, "but you do you." There was a pause, then, "But hey, if you do slip up, we can deal with it, okay? So don't start letting your brain tell you things that you know are not true. Don't ever feel too ashamed to talk to us. You can always, _always_ come back home. We'll never hate you and you'll never be too much for us."

He didn't want a repeat of last time. Drake could've put a stop to it. He could've called either Ricardo or Julio, but instead, his brain had convinced him that they were done with his bullshit. This had led to the most embarrassing and degrading two months of his life.

"Stop, you're gonna make me cry," Drake said with a smile.

Drake was the kind of person who needed constant reassurance and Julio and Ricardo gave him that. If you told him one day that you weren't mad at him, he'd still need to be told the next day as well, then the day after that and the one after that. Even if there was no reason for you to be mad at him, his brain could convince him that you were. Sometimes, he just needed a check-in. He needed to know that, " _Hey, we're okay. I love you. I enjoy living with you. You're still my best friend. I'm proud of you. You're doing exceptionally well. Your hair looks great. Your outfit is fine. I believe in you. You're doing a fine job. Life is okay._ " He hated being this way. Years ago, he couldn't care less what other people thought of him. Now it was everything.

"So other than spending your night wasted on drugs and alcohol and giving a stranger a blowjob, how's life at Gem's?" Julio said it in a somewhat teasing manner.

"Fuck off." Drake's lips turned up into a smile. "I don't know. The second I got there, I was basically dragged to the club. He said they've got a lot of people staying there right now, so I'm guessing it'll be like a college frat house, but with less douchey and less masculine guys."

"You'll probably be completely out-of-the-closet gay when you come back home then."

"Probably," Drake joked back. "I've already made out with one of Gem's roommates. I don't remember his name, though. It's the new one."

"Christ, Drake, alcohol turns you into a slut."

Had it've been anyone else, because of the words his dad had carved into his skin, this would've upset him and sent him into a depression episode where he non-stop cried for three days straight. Because it was his best friend, however, he knew that it was light-hearted teasing and it made him laugh.

After a moment, Drake looked in his direction. "You should come one night."

"Are you asking me to come to a gay nightclub with you?"

"I mean..." He shrugged with a grin.

"Are you gonna seduce me like you seduced my brother?"

Drake gave him a friendly shove. "I'm serious," he said. "We'll get some drinks, maybe do some e," he said innocently, but he averted his eyes.

"Maybe just drinks."

Drake groaned. "Ugh, fine. And the best part is it's free. You just sit at the bar looking lonely and some guy will come up and buy you a drink. After a couple shots, you say something super unattractive about yourself to chase them away before things get too serious, then another guy will come along and you repeat the process."

Julio was laughing. "Are you serious?" When he saw that Drake was, he said, "Like, do you hear yourself right now?"

"Girls do this all the time, right? Kenzly did. Why is it so bad when I do it?"

"You're an asshole."

"I mean, if they stick around, I give them what they want in return, so I don't think they really mind."

Julio took a breath and let it out slowly. "There's so much wrong with what you just said. I don't even know where to start."

"You're right. When I said it out loud, I heard it."

"You're _basically_ prostituting yourself for free alcohol."

"Shit, I'm really fucked up. Why doesn't it sound bad when Kenzly does it?"

"I don't know, dude. Maybe she doesn't fuck every guy that buys her a drink and, if she does take one home, it's probably because she wants to get laid. You just blow them and bail because you don't actually wanna do it. You just feel like you have to."

"I feel like...it's hard to tell the difference."

"What day did Ricardo make you that appointment with a psychiatrist?"

"I think in a couple weeks."

"Maybe you should mention this? It's not normal, Drake."

The young man was still analyzing and obsessing over everything he had done the night before. "I kinda hate myself."

Julio kicked his shin. It wasn't hard, but it was enough to grab Drake's attention. "No." And that was all Julio said before he jogged the rest of the way to Gemini's driveway.

* * *

Drake quietly pushed open the door to Gem's bedroom, but the boy was still awake.

"You were in the shower forever." By the sound of his voice, Gemini was clearly tired.

"I was having an existential crisis." Drake got in the bed and pulled the comforter up to his neck.

"You're shivering," his friend noticed.

"It's freezing." Even his teeth chattered when he said it.

Gem leaned over his nightstand, then passed Drake two Advils and a bottle of water. "For the hangover. It'll help with the cold, too."

"Thanks." He gratefully took them and swallowed down the pills.

"Is everything still spinning when you close your eyes?"

"Just a little."

"I don't know how on earth you got out there and worked out after all the drinks you had." He flipped the switch on his lamp. "Goodnight, sweetie."

"Night."

* * *

Drake opened his eyes cautiously. After living on the streets, this had become a learned habit to avoid being blinded by the sun the second he woke up underneath the sky at the park. Instead of on a thin, used, moldy blanket, he was in a bed. For a few seconds, he wondered where he was and even went so far as to recall if a truck driver had offered up a place to stay before his brain cleared up and he realized he was at Gemini's. The sun was shining through his light pink curtains. He turned over and found his friend leaning against the headboard and looking over his phone at him. His legs were underneath the comforter, but from the top up, he looked like he was already dressed and ready for work.

"You okay?" Gem asked.

"Mm-hmm," he said tiredly.

"You were making these weird noises. I thought you were having a nightmare."

Drake tiredly closed his eyes again. "I was."

"I've gotta leave for work in a little bit. You need anything?"

"Advil?"

He felt like shit. You know how, when you're sick, you wake up feeling awful, but then you get a little better — even just slightly — throughout the day, and then you go to bed and wake up feeling like you're going to die again? That's what Drake felt like. Mornings were always the worst.

After he took the medicine, he laid down and was asleep again within seconds.

* * *

Drake didn't know how it was possible, but there he was, standing right in Gemini's doorway. Martin looked the same as he had _that_ day — the day he'd attempted and almost succeeded at viciously murdering his own son, his flesh and blood. He still had that familiar rage in his eyes and hatred was spewing from his pores. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, revealing his razor sharp teeth. This was new. Drake tried to back away when he saw this, but he couldn't move. He was glued to his spot on the bed, paralyzed and afraid.

It had been a while since he had last suffered from sleep paralysis. He'd heard that using drugs could potentially be a possible cause, but he found that he usually only ever got it when he was sober. Despite knowing that this was happening to him — knowing that this was all just some hallucinatory nightmare — he was terrified. It felt real. He didn't dream that he was at his dad's house or Ricardo's house or somewhere that he dreamed about a lot. He dreamed that he was in Gemini's bedroom, which he actually currently was. Gem's outfit from last night was even hanging over the edge of his dirty clothes hamper and a bottle of Advil was on the nightstand where he'd left it. It all felt so real and that was the power of sleep paralysis. Although his eyes were actually closed, they felt open and, although he knew that it wasn't physically possible for Martin Parker to be standing in front of him, he believed that he was.

He tried to yell for help, but the words got stuck in his throat. He tried to get up, but it was as if someone was pinning him down. In his hallucination, he closed his eyes. He kept them that way for ten seconds, then looked to see if his father was gone. He wasn't. Instead Martin had a knife stuck through his arm. He yanked it out and blood poured from it like a waterfall. Drake fought to move again. If he could just wiggle even a finger or toe, he could shake the rest of it off and escape. He stared in horror as a pool of blood flooded around his father's feet, then Martin took his first step towards him.

Drake managed to get his arm free then. He reached over and tried to knock the lamp off of the nightstand. He didn't care if it broke. He'd find a way to pay Gem back. He just needed to make a loud noise so someone would come in here and wake him up. However, when he pushed on the lamp, it moved away from him instead of towards the edge until it was no longer in reach. His dad was moving closer slowly. Blood was still dripping off of his skin, leaving a dark, contrasting trail on Gem's white carpet.

Drake frantically felt around on top of the nightstand in search of something that could make a noise. That's when he found his cell phone. He picked it up, slid his thumb across the bottom to unlock it, then tried to open up his contacts list, but suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the phone was gone. It was back on the nightstand and his arm was still glued to the mattress. This always happened to him during sleep paralysis. He always thought he was making progress when, in fact, he had never actually moved a muscle. It was all apart of the hallucination. Although his body had reset, Martin was still moving closer and closer.

The young man again fought for freedom and again managed to move his arm. He went for his phone once again, but when he tried to open up his contacts list, his fingers felt heavy and he accidentally clicked on the App Store. His heart pounded against his chest and, for the second time, he found his body reset. It was always soul-crushing when he realized that he had never actually moved from his spot on the bed. Each time, he thought, "Finally, I'm almost free," but then his brain would make him restart and he learned that he had not really moved the entire time.

Drake reached for his phone a third time. He felt a bit of comfort because this time felt real. Both of the times before had also felt real, but this time felt really real. All he had to do was call Ricardo. He didn't even need to scroll through his contacts really. He could just look at his recent calls and he'd find it right under Julio's number at the top of the list. Ricardo could help him. Drake felt a sense of security when the man was around. He felt safe, which made sense because Ricky had practically saved his life. He was there for him when shit went down with his father. He was there for him when the drugs had him on the verge of death. He was there for him even when he didn't deserve it, so even though things were weird and uncomfortable between the two — even though Drake felt like Ricardo hated him now — he knew that his best friend would answer the phone and he wouldn't let Martin touch him ever again.

Unfortunately, before he could call the man, his body reset once again and he learned that, although it had felt real, that time, too, had been a lie. Martin was next to him now, so there was no more chances of an escape. Drake could only gaze up at him helplessly as he watched his father hold the knife now in a more threatening manner. He still couldn't find his voice to beg for mercy. He tried and tried to scream — to get something to come out of his throat — and just when he started to feel something, Martin clamped his hand over his mouth, his long, inhuman fingernails digging into his cheek.

Tears streamed down Drake's cheeks as his father lifted the knife up so that he could see it.

"Are you okay?" he heard faintly.

It wasn't his father. It was one of Gem's roommates! Drake suddenly realized that he _had_ actually been making a noise this entire time, or he had been until his dad had put his hand over the boy's mouth. It wasn't exactly a scream, but it was a loud mixture of moaning and whimpering that came from the depths of his throat. It was a sound of pure fear. It left him in exhales and, embarrassingly enough, sounded somewhat sexual. He didn't care. He was just grateful that it had managed to attract someone's attention. However, now he couldn't make a sound. He tried and tried, but Martin's hand kept him silent. _Please, don't leave. Please, wake me up. Please, wake me up._ He just needed this guy to shake him awake, then he would be able to move. Although Gemini's roommate was actually there in reality, Drake still only saw his dead, vengeful father and, even though he wasn't actually there, he felt like he was going to die.

"Are you okay?" the guy said again. He reached out and softly shook Drake's shoulder.

Within a few seconds, Drake shot up, his eyes wide. "HUUUHHH!"

The roommate jumped back as the now awake boy gasped for air. His face was pouring with sweat and, when he yanked off the comforter, the confused onlooker saw that he was sweating through his clothes as well. Drake got out of bed. He was weak and unsteady as he left the room.

"Is everything okay?" The roommate went after him and found him in the hallway.

Drake slid his back down the wall and sat in the floor. He was still panting for breath and he was shaking. He couldn't be in that room anymore — not for a little while anyway.

"Were you having a nightmare?"

The young man gulped. When he spoke, he sounded out of breath. "Yeah. Sorry." His fingers trembled madly and he brushed his damp hair out of his face. "Sorry."

"It's okay." The roommate squatted down next to him. He was the one Drake had made out with at the club.

 _Sawyer, was it?_ He was still anxious and scared and he didn't know what else to say, so he apologized once again for his meltdown. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," Sawyer said soothingly. He reached out and rubbed Drake's bicep. He had no idea what was going on, but he felt sympathetic because the boy was crying.

Drake sniffled, then wiped his eyes with embarrassment. "Thanks for waking me up."

By the looks of it, Sawyer was the only one home. Drake was incredibly grateful that he had been here. Who knows how long he would've been stuck in his sleep paralysis had someone not woken him? He'd once suffered through a three hour long paralysis. If he would've had to do that this time while hallucinating about his father, he probably would've died of a heart attack.

"Let me get you some water."

Drake was left alone for a short time to collect himself. He got his shaking and crying down to a minimum, but neither went away completely. When Sawyer returned, he handed the boy a glass of water.

"Thanks," Drake said. He took a sip.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"There's a bottle of Advil on the nightstand if you don't mind."

"Sure." Sawyer brought it back to him. "Are you still feeling sick?"

"I'm..." Drake honestly didn't know what he was feeling right now. He was so shook up by that nightmare that he didn't have time to process anything else. "I'm okay." It was then that a deep cough erupted from him, telling Sawyer the opposite.

The young man reached out and touched Drake's forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up," he said. "Maybe you should stay in tonight and rest up."

Drake agreed, but he didn't want to upset Gem. "I don't know."

Sawyer knew why he was so hesitant. "Don't be scared to tell Gem no," he said. "I'm staying in tonight, too. We can order a pizza and watch a movie."

That did sound much better than going out to a loud and crowded club.

* * *

"Drake!" Gemini exclaimed as he entered the living room. "You're not dressed!"

"I think I'm just gonna hang back this time," he said not-so-confidently.

Sawyer came to his rescue. He slid past Gem and sat down on the couch next to Drake. He had two sodas in his hand and he passed one to the boy. "We're gonna stay in tonight and do dinner and a movie. I had a shit day after all that stuff with Ryan and Drake said he'd keep me company."

"Oh..." Gem nodded his approval, but he wasn't approving of Drake staying home; he was approving of Sawyer hooking up with Drake.

Drake knew what he was assuming, but he let it go. Gemini could believe anything he wanted as long as Drake got to stay home.

"How do I look?"

Drake's answer was, "Hot." He'd quickly learned that this was always the right thing to say to Gemini or else there would be hell to pay.

The fabulously dressed boy struck a pose before he picked up his keys. He winked at Drake. "You bebes have fun."

When he was gone, Sawyer went over to the television and scanned through the DVD case. "Any preferences?"

He was grateful that his new friend had gotten him off the hook, so he was willing to sacrifice two hours doing whatever Sawyer had in mind. "Doesn't matter," he said. "Who's Ryan?"

"My ex," he replied. "Slimy prick cheated on me and then kicked me out when I caught him."

"Shit. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, and thankfully, Xavier and Gem let me move in here. I've been sleeping on the couch for two months. And then Ryan had the audacity to show up today and beg me to come back."

"Here?"

"Yeah. Like, no, boo. We're through."

Drake had somehow slept through it. Maybe Sawyer and Ryan were calm and collected talker-outers. Drake was just used to Rhinestone's and Gemini's blowups.

" _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_?"

"I like that one," Drake said.

"You've seen it?"

"Several times, but I can always watch it again."

Sawyer opened the case. "It's one of my favs. Did you see Fox completely butcher their remake?"

"They did a remake?"

"Yeah. Fox remakes musicals every now and then with popular celebs. I will admit that some were okay. _A Christmas Story_ , for example. I loved it. But their _Rocky Horror_ was just — I mean, maybe it wasn't bad for someone who has never seen the movie or the live performance. I'm just a huge fan and I feel like this is one of those movies that can never be remade. You know, like _A Clockwork Orange_ or something."

"I love that movie," Drake said. He was finding that he had a lot in common with Sawyer, which made him much more comfortable.

"The book is good, too. Hard to understand, but you catch on to the lingo as you go. The ending's totally different from the movie, too. Have you read it?"

"Not yet, but I want to. I literally just got into reading a couple months ago. I've been working on the _Trainspotting_ series."

"Oh my God! Irvine Welsh is brilliant! And the movies — Danny Boyle is just perfection."

Drake said nothing. He was just surprised that he and Sawyer had the same taste. They were practically the same person.

"I'm gonna smoke first and wait until the pizza gets here before I start the movie. Care to join?"

Drake knew that he meant weed and not cigarettes, but he followed him out front anyway. Drake lit a cigarette while Sawyer hit the pipe. "What other things do you like?" he asked.

A cloud of smoke left Sawyer's lips. He held out the pipe, but the other boy declined. "Have you read _Party Monster_?"

"Not yet. My friend told me I should a long time ago, but I just haven't had much time to read lately. I'm super obsessed with the movie, though."

"Right? Macaulay Culkin all grown up and addicted to drugs — what better movie could exist?" Sawyer said. He looked over at Drake as if he was trying to study him. "So you're into those drug movies, huh? You shoot dope?" He saw the young man's hesitation and said, "Not that I'm judging. Shit, I used meth for a little over six months. Thank God I never got into needles, though. I don't think I would've ever been able to quit."

"How long have you been clean?"

"Four and a half years." He was twenty-five now. "You?"

Drake hung his head. "Not long. I mean, it wasn't meth, though, but things got really bad."

"Drugs can ruin your life," Sawyer agreed.

Drake felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. He pulled it out of his pocket.

 **Julio: u up yet?**

The boy held his cigarette with his lips as he typed back. He knew what he wanted. Julio wanted to know if he was going to perform at Flux with him. He didn't want to, but he knew Julio really wanted to do this and he felt like he owed it to him, especially after all the shit he had put him through recently.

 **Drake: yea ill doit**

A bright light flashed his eyes, blinding him momentarily. He noticed that it was a car pulling into the driveway. A short time later, a guy in a red uniform shirt and kacki pants walked up onto the porch carrying a red, square bag.

"Medium Hawaiian?"

Sawyer stood and pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

 **Julio: how are u? Still sick?**

 **Drake: kinda had a ever earler but i think.. ts gkne now**

They had been friends for a long time now, so somehow, Julio understood him.

 **Julio: going out tonight?**

 **Drake: no**

When he looked away from his phone, he saw the pizza delivery guy taking a hit from Sawyer's pipe. The newbie was ranting about some ridiculous customer he'd served earlier, but he told the story in a comedic manner rather than a complaining one. Sawyer laughed with him.

 **Drake: talk to stave is yet**

 **Drake: *stavos**

 **Drake: *stavros**

 **Drake: wutevr tf**

 **Julio: he's in. Will do guitar or whatever we need. Said he's good with drums & keyboard also.**

 **Julio: think U'll feel up to oacticing tomorrowv**

 **Julio: ?**

 **Julio: Christ why cant either of us type for shit**

 **Drake: we need to. .dont evn no if i rember the lyrics**

 **Julio: we can skip the job if ur still sick and double up when u aren't.**

 **Julio: *jog**

 **Julio: and I'll pick u up at?**

 **Drake: mabey 12 idk ill txt when i up**

 **Julio: need me to drop off some meds tonight?**

 **Drake: i hav advil**

 **Julio: k goodnight**

 **Julio: & MAKE SURE U SLEEP!**

Drake put his phone away just in time to see the pizza guy direct a goodbye wave his way. He returned it, then pushed himself up when he saw Sawyer getting his things up to go inside.

* * *

 _(4 days later)_

By the time the night of the Flux gig rolled around, Drake was exhausted. He had spent most of every day practicing at Stavros' house and most of every night getting wasted at a gay nightclub. It was hard to find sleep in between, but somehow he managed to do it.

Just like promised, Flux was packed full of people. Drake didn't recognize anyone, but he had always been too high to remember faces anyway. Still, he knew that this crowd was full of their old "groupies" because they went crazy the second the band walked out on stage. They opened with one of their older upbeat songs to loosen everyone up. A lot of people still remembered their lyrics, which made Drake think that the night would actually turn out okay. He could hope anyway. He just had to ignore what he knew they were all waiting for. They wanted to see his chaos. They wanted to see the disaster that was his life. Well, not today. This was his chance to show everyone that he was okay now.

The first three songs went great and now was the time for a slower one. It was a song that Drake had recently discovered and he'd fallen in love with it immediately.

 _ **Here stands a man**_  
 _ **At the bottom of a hole he's made**_  
 _ **Still sweating from the rush**_  
 _ **His body tense**_  
 _ **His hands, they shake**_  
 _ **Oh this, this is a mad boy**_

 _ **Here stands a man**_  
 _ **With a bullet in his clenched right hand**_  
 _ **Don't push him son**_  
 _ **For he's got the power to crush this land**_  
 _ **Oh hear, hear him cry, boy**_

 _ **Don't you ever leave me alone**_  
 _ **My war is over**_  
 _ **Be my shelter from the storm**_  
 _ **My war is over**_  
 _ **I am a sad boy**_

When Drake opened his eyes, he caught sight of something bright yellow as it flew through the air. It landed on stage at his feet. Drake was sure his heart missed a beat when he looked down at the box of Triple C's. An eruption of cheers and chants of encouragement emanated from the audience. They were all urging him to take the pills. For them, it was fun watching him get high and act like a fool on stage. For him, it was hell. He had a hard enough time getting off the pills. Look at where they had led him. None of these people gave a shit about him. They wanted him to destroy his own life solely for their entertainment.

Suddenly, Julio appeared next to him. He kicked the box back into the audience, his hands still strumming his bass guitar. "You okay?" he asked his friend over the music.

His words went in one ear and out the other. Instead, Drake was listening to some of the audience members persuade him to take the pills. He was so focused on them that he missed his cue to begin singing again. Stavros looked at Julio questioningly.

The craving hit him fast and hard. _Just do it. Just take the box. Swallow them before Julio knocks them out of your hand. Give them what they want. Give yourself what you want._

"Drake?"

His attention moved over to Julio. He saw the look of concern in his eyes and immediately felt guilty. He couldn't take these pills, not right in front of his best friend. That'd probably send him into a panic or something, which was just the disaster the audience wanted. Drake wouldn't do that to Julio, though.

The young man turned and rushed backstage. Julio pulled off his guitar and set it down. He motioned for Stavros to stall, then he hurried after the boy. He found Drake in the green room. He was crying and shaking like Julio had never seen. It wasn't just his hands this time. Even his knees violently and manically wobbled. Drake held a small garbage can underneath his mouth. He couldn't quite throw up, but he was salivating profusely. His cheeks were red and hot and he was sweating. Julio didn't know this, but these were all signs displaying that Drake had already made the choice to get high. He was going to do it. His nerves were shot, though, and he needed to calm himself first.

"Are you okay?" Julio was clearly worried.

"I'm fine." Drake's teeth was chattering even though the room's temperature was fairly comfortable. Again, this was another sign that his best friend was unaware of. This was how nervous Drake was to use again.

Julio didn't understand what was happening. Just moments ago, Drake had been fine. After seeing the cough medicine, he looked physically sick. This was a bad sign.

"Do you want me to call off the show?"

"No, don't do that." His voice trembled almost as much as his body. After he finished his sentence, his teeth went back to chattering together.

"What do you want me to do?" He put his hand on his friend's shoulder for support, but was pushed away.

"Don't touch me!" Drake had too much going on and he didn't want to be touched at the moment. He knew he needed to act normal, though, if he wanted to get high. He put the trash can down and tried to control both his weeping and shaking. "I'm okay."

"Do you know who threw them? We can have them kicked out."

"No, don't. I'm already embarrassed enough."

"What do you want me to do?" Julio asked again. He was starting to regret pushing his friend to do this gig with him.

Drake took deep breaths and sat down on the couch. "I can't go out there like this," he said. "Just take my spot. Just for a couple songs."

"I don't want to leave you by yourself."

"I just need to be alone and calm myself down for a few minutes. I'll put in my earbuds and watch my comfort videos." He was referring to the deepest dive and shark videos that always made him feel better and his friend knew this. "I just need a second to breathe and then I'll be back out there."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'm okay."

Julio was hesitant.

"I promise," Drake assured.

The boy nodded, then went back out on stage. He said something to Stavros before they started another song.

* * *

He was late. He'd left the bar much later than he had meant to and he had to stop by the house to change, but now he was ready to go to Flux. Ricardo checked his pocket for his keys and wallet. When he confirmed that he had them, he opened the front door. Briskly walking up the driveway was Drake. Ricky immediately noticed that he was sobbing. His face expressed concern.

"Drake, what's wrong?"

 _ **Here stands a man**_  
 _ **At the bottom of a hole he's made**_  
 _ **Still sweating from the rush**_  
 _ **His body tense**_  
 _ **His hands they shake**_  
 _ **Oh this, this is a mad boy**_

Drake held a Walmart bag in his hand. When he made it to the front door, he held it out, averting his eyes with shame. "I don't know what I'm doing," he said through his tears.

Ricardo took the bag from him and opened it. He peeked inside and knew what it was the second his eyes landed on the bright yellow color. "Drake..."

"I need help," the boy said pathetically.

"Did you take any?"

"Not yet."

Not _yet_.

"Come inside." Ricky put his arm around him and led him to the living room.

Drake collapsed on the couch. He hid his face in his hands with shame. "I can't do this." His words got caught in his throat and he let go of a strangled sob.

"What happened?" the man asked.

"I just wanna get high," he cried.

 _ **Here stands a man**_  
 _ **With a bullet in his clenched right hand**_  
 _ **But don't push him son**_  
 _ **For he's got the power to crush this land**_  
 _ **Oh hear, hear him cry, boy**_

"I don't wanna end up on the streets again," Drake said. "I'm tired of feeling like this."

Ricardo pulled him into a hug. "I know." He rubbed the boy's back soothingly. "You're gonna be okay. Everything is okay," he said. "I'm so, so proud of you for coming here. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah," he choked out.

"I know it's hard right now. I know it feels like you're never gonna stop feeling this way, but this is just a craving. You're gonna get through this. We'll get through it together, okay?"

"Yeah." He was crying so many tears that the shoulder of Ricardo's shirt was soaked.

Ricky heard Drake's phone alerting him of text after text. He assumed it was his brother and that he'd just realized Drake was missing. "Does Julio know where you are?"

"No."

Ricardo took Drake's cell phone. "Let me text him really quick and let him know so that he doesn't freak out." After he did this, he set his phone down and gave Drake his full attention. "Talk to me, Drake. What happened?"

 _ **Don't you ever leave me alone**_  
 _ **My war is over**_  
 _ **Be my shelter from the storm**_  
 _ **My war is over**_  
 _ **I am a sad boy**_

Drake told him about the guy throwing the Triple C's on stage and the crowd urging him to take them. "They only like the old me and they hate who I am now and _I_ hate who I am now," he whined. "They just wanted to see me spiral out of control. They all know what my dad did to me and what I did to him. They all think I'm so cool, but they don't know what kind of shit these drugs had me doing. I had a threesome with my gym coach and some meth addict. My high school teacher caught me jerking off for her husband. I slept with a seventy year old man for thirty bucks. I've done so much shit that I'm ashamed off. I get so sick thinking about it that I just wanna kill myself, but that's the only way anyone likes me. Everyone hates sober Drake and I hate him, too."

"I love sober Drake," Ricardo said. "I love addict Drake, too. I love fuck-up Drake. I love chaotic Drake. I love anxious and depressed Drake. I love supportive and caring Drake. I love lay-in-bed-all-day Drake. I love chapter-book-reading and coffee-drinking (even though you shouldn't) Drake. I love Darren Aronofsky-obsessed Drake. I love pineapple-belongs-on-pizza (even though it doesn't) Drake. I love I-climbed-up-a-fucking-mountain Drake. I love I-whined-and-complained-the-whole-way-up-though Drake. I love I'll-fuck-you-if-you-want Drake. I love I'll-do-the-Flux-gig-with-Julio-because-I-know-how-much-he-wants-it-and-I-love-him Drake. I love I-had-a-threesome-with-my-gym-coach-and-some-meth-addict Drake and my-high-school-teacher-caught-me-jerking-off-for-her-husband Drake and I-slept-with-a-seventy-year-old-man-for-thirty-bucks Drake. No matter what you do, I will always love you and so will Julio. We're your family and family is the only thing that matters. We're the Santos brothers, right?"

He still wanted to use, but his insecurities were washed away by his best friend's kind words. "Right."

"Somos un familia, right?"

"Yeah." Drake repeated, "Somos un familia."

 _ **Don't you ever leave me alone**_  
 _ **Be my shelter from the storm**_  
 _ **My war is over**_  
 _ **I am a sad boy**_

* * *

 **Author's Note: I don't have too much to discuss this time, but I really just wanted to respond to my reviewers. (If you're not them, please at least read the last two paragraphs). Since the last chapter was posted, I received one review for this story and one for the first in the series, _Charlie Freak_. Both of you, Guest and Ellie, specifically mentioned my characterization being well-done. You guys have no idea how much that meant to me. I started writing somewhere around ten or so years ago and I was shit at creating my own characters. That's what led me to fanfiction. I remember reading one of my S.E. Hinton books and there was an interview with the author in the back. Someone had asked her about fans writing fanfics with her characters, which led me here. I started reading fics about _The Outsiders_ , but didn't start writing until _Flight 29 Down_ , then _House Of Anubis_ and now I'm here. My biggest issue — I felt like — was characterization. Also, being descriptive wasn't my strong suit. I used to mostly only have dialogue. When I started the Charlie series, it was something very close to my heart and it was a subject that I knew much about. Obviously, things are way exaggerated for entertainment purposes, but I learned that the secret to good characterization was to base characters off of the people around you. I have a Rhinestone. I have a Julio. I don't have a Ricardo, but that's the person I always felt I needed. Like the other two characters, Mindy was also slightly based on one of my best friends. Funny story. Mindy was pregnant in _Charlie Horse_ , which I completely made up, but soon after I wrote that in, the "Mindy in real life" learned that she was pregnant. Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Those two compliments about my characterization really made my day. Ellie, I know you're probably about to begin Charlie Horse if you haven't already, but I hope you continue reading the series and make it here so you can see how much your words impacted me. I haven't yet written a story with my own characters, but I think I might give it a shot soon. I heard someone say that every single person has a story inside of them and I think this is mine. Well, maybe less graphic. I've just gotten into a lot of television series like _Shameless_ (the title says it all) that freely show and say literally anything, so I've been practicing with new things like that. I don't know if it works, but it's all a learning experience. Somewhere in this story is my story, or maybe it's just part of my story and I haven't lived through the rest of my story yet. I don't know. Maybe in another ten years, I'll be ready.**

 **Okay, so I actually went on way longer than I thought I would, but two more things. One: please review. Blah, blah, blah. That whole spiel. But I seriously appreciate each one because I can't become a better writer if I'm not told what I need to approve on. Secondly, you guys should really, really, really listen to "The War" by SYML. Obviously, I think every (or _almost_ every) song I use in this story deserves a listen, but this one specifically — the one the chapter ends on — is absolutely fucking beautiful. That's one of those songs that you can just feel. So maybe reread the ending, but with that song playing in the background. Or don't. Just listen to the song!**

 **Also, I just came up with this idea right now, but would you guys be interested in a soundtrack for this story? I just know that I have a YouTube playlist that I listen to that puts me in Drake's mood so that I can write and it includes songs from the story or songs that I want to put into the story. Would anyone actually listen to that? I don't know. Maybe it's just me. I've been so desperate for new songs, but I'm sooooo picky about music. Anyway, just let me know what y'all think. See you in the next one.**


	6. Back To Normal — Almost

When Drake opened his eyes, he blinked with confusion. This ceiling was different from the one above Gemini's bed and the comforter he was using wasn't fluffy and light pink. Instead, it was brown and he recognized it as the one in his room at Ricardo's. He was home.

Last night's events came crashing into his memory and he didn't want to move. He felt so ashamed about what had happened. He'd almost used again. How many times did that make this month? _Fucking pathetic._

However, he felt comfort knowing that Ricardo didn't feel the same way. His friend always said to call him no matter what time it was. He always had time to talk Drake through a meltdown. Instead of feeling disgusted with the boy for almost relapsing, he felt proud that he had come to him for help. It's like cock-blocking yourself, but with drugs instead of sex.

Despite not wanting to move due to humiliation, he knew that it was a bad idea to lay here and dwell over what he had done (or almost done) last night. He sat up and pushed the comforter away. He was on the couch in the living room. He must've cried himself to sleep here or something. Ricardo was sitting in the recliner. He looked like he had just woken up himself. Drake must've been moving a lot right before waking.

The man had a thin blanket wrapped around him. He was looking at Drake. "Another nightmare?"

"I had a drug dream." These were the worst. You could be years sober and doing well and then have a drug dream and that was it. Your life could spiral out of control just like that.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Drake reached for his pack of cigarettes that was on the table. It felt light, so he shook it. He knew then that it was empty, but he opened it to double-check. "I dreamed I was at my motel room and I took Triple C's," he admitted nonchalantly, but he couldn't meet his eyes. He had just woken up and, already, his heart was racing. His fingers were even trembling ever so slightly. God, he needed a cigarette. Still averting his eyes, he quietly asked, "Did you get rid of them?"

He meant the Triple C's, but he didn't mean trashing them. He meant flushing the pills down the toilet, setting the boxes on fire, then feeding the ashes to a bird that would fly far away from here and never come back. He meant absolutely destroying them.

"They're gone," Ricardo assured.

Drake knew that it wasn't necessary, but he still felt like he should apologize anyway. "I'm really sorry about last night," he said.

"It's okay. I'm really glad you came to me."

He picked up his phone this time and saw a couple concerned text messages from both Gemini and Sawyer. They had been in the audience last night for support. Too stressed to deal with that this early, he set his phone down.

"Well anyway, thanks," he said. "I'll tidy all this shit up before I head back to Gem's." He needed to put his comforter back in his room and trash the empty cigarette box and the teary and snotty tissues.

"Drake..." Ricardo sighed. "I think it's time to come back home," he said.

"You don't have to worry about me. I had a little slip-up, but I'm better now."

" _I want_ you to stay," he said.

For the first time that morning, Drake met his eyes and saw that he was sincere. He'd left because Ricardo had clearly needed his space, so maybe he had worked through whatever it was that had made him hate being stuck in a room with Drake. Maybe things could go back to normal.

"Are you sure?" Drake asked. He would love to come home. He hardly slept at Gemini's, which is probably why he had been having a lot of sleep paralysis when he did.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Drake said. He was curious to know what had brought about this change in his friend, but he wasn't going to push this time because maybe that's what had made Ricky so uncomfortable in the first place. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Drake nodded his head slightly and spoke softly. "Okay." His head moved towards the table and his eyes landed on his empty pack of cigarettes again. He really needed to smoke. He found his shoes next to the couch, so he reached for them and started to slip one on without untying the laces. "I'm gonna go out." He knew his vagueness would only worry Ricardo, so he elaborated. "I need cigarettes."

"You want me to take you?"

If Drake was being honest, he didn't completely trust himself to not come back with Charlie. "Would you?"

"Yeah. Lemme brush my teeth," he said. "I'm off today, so we can grab some breakfast and a Redbox movie and come back here?"

"Okay."

When he was gone, Drake cleaned the table off like he said he would, then he went upstairs to brush his teeth as well. He met Ricardo downstairs in the kitchen, where he was grabbing his keys. It wasn't until they opened the front door and stepped outside that Drake realized how early it was. Judging my the dim sky, it was probably around seven.

"Is Julio here?" Drake asked.

"Yeah, he's asleep. He's gotta go to school later today."

"Did he say anything when he came in?" Drake felt guilty for bailing on him like he did.

"He was just glad that you were home and sober," Ricky said, "so don't worry about the gig. He's just sorry about what happened. He didn't think anyone would be that much of a jerk."

Drake got inside the car and immediately turned on the radio as they backed out of the driveway and started down the road. The second he chose a station, Ricky pressed a button to change it to one of his saved ones.

"Yeah, right," the man said. "My car, my music."

Drake rolled his eyes, then turned up the heat. "It's cold."

"Why didn't you bring a jacket?"

"I forgot."

"Hey, buckle up," Ricardo said after glancing at him. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Yeah, because I might die if we wreck going-" He checked the speedometer. "-fifteen miles per hour."

"Shut up," he said. "And put your seatbelt on."

Again, Drake rolled his eyes at him, but he did.

* * *

"That movie was right up your alley, I bet," Ricardo said as he removed the _Sorry To Bother You_ disc from the PlayStation 4 and put it back into its Redbox case.

"How'd you know?"

"Because you like weird movies."

"True," the boy said. "But also because Lakeith Stanfield was in it."

"Which one was that?"

"The main character. He was in _Get Out_. Oh, and that show we watched together: _Atlanta_."

"Was that the one with Childish Gambino?"

"How do you not remember? That show was funny as fuck."

Ricardo reached up towards the ceiling to stretch his back muscles and he actually heard a few of his bones pop. "We watched it, like, a year or two ago." He let go of a yawn. "This rain is making me tired."

It had started soon after they had gotten back home from getting breakfast, cigarettes and a movie and it was still going strong two hours later.

"Perfect movie marathon weather if you think you can sit through another one."

Ricardo said, "Let's start a show together instead."

"Do you have one in mind?"

"I think it's your turn to pick, right? Wasn't _Prison Break_ the last one we watched together? That was my pick."

Drake picked up the PS4 controller and opened the Netflix app as Ricky left the room, probably for a bathroom break. As he scrolled through the titles, he couldn't help but think that today was a good day. It was still early and a lot could happen, but right now, things were okay. He'd woken up early, which he liked to do because he hated feeling like he was wasting his day by sleeping in, then making up for it by staying up late at night only to sleep in again the next day. On top of that, he had shared a good meal with a good friend over a good movie and, since he'd gotten up so early, they'd finished an entire movie before noon, which made him feel like he had so much day left. What topped it off and made it even better was that it was dark and cloudy and stormy outside. This was his favorite weather...as long as he had a roof over his head, of course. There was something about the lack of sunshine that felt smothering, but in a good way, like a weighted blanket.

He wondered what his life would've been like at this very moment had he have went through with his relapse last night. Despite Julio practically begging him to always come back home no matter how ashamed he felt, Drake wasn't sure he would've done that. Maybe, but it wasn't set in stone.

Living on the streets had led him to do a lot of things that he wasn't proud of. Had Dev not tried to kill him, he'd probably still be out there doing those things. It was insane sometimes to think about. Right now, everything was okay and it was hard to imagine ever wanting to give this life up. However, when a craving hit him, he was in a completely different mindset.

The young man wasn't sure what exactly had convinced him to walk home after buying the Triple C's yesterday. He could've easily taken them, but he was so glad he didn't. He wasn't sure where that strength came from, but he was incredibly grateful for it. Drake never wanted to use again. He never wanted to let things get to that point where he ended up on the streets again and he had to do all he could to prevent it.

"Find anything yet?" Ricardo asked as he stepped out of the downstairs bathroom. Instead of entering the living room, he went into the kitchen.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You want anything while I'm up?"

"Uh, a water, please."

The man came back with two bottles of water. He passed one to Drake before taking a seat in his favorite recliner. While his friend continued his search, he picked up his cell phone to quickly check for messages.

"Hey, Ricky?"

He looked at him instead of just asking what he wanted because Drake's voice carried a bit more seriousness than normal. "What's up?"

Drake picked up his own cell phone, then tossed it to Ricardo. "Do you wanna set it up so you can always see my location with your phone?" He felt weird and even slightly embarrassed asking this, but if he ever ran away again, even if he didn't want it when the time came, he knew right now that he would want to be found.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said. "I just don't want a repeat of last time."

His friend nodded proudly. "Okay. It needs your password."

Instead of taking it, typing it in, then handing it back, Drake told the man the four-digit pin that would unlock his phone. "That's why I kept my phone off when I was gone. Clem already set it up so that she could always see where I was."

Ricardo didn't doubt it. She was very overbearing and controlling. She even had it set up so that _she_ also received notifications and messages when they came in on _his_ phone. He probably needed to figure out how to fix that soon.

"I couldn't figure out how to turn location sharing off, so I just shut the whole phone off," he said. "She could still have it on there. I don't know how to mess with that shit."

"So if a relapse-and-run ever did happen again, you don't think you would just turn off your phone so I couldn't find you?"

"I might," Drake admitted, "but maybe I'll forget. Or maybe I'll just be sitting there hoping you'll come. What do you think of _Maniac_?"

Ricardo glanced up at the television and saw a colorful poster with both Emma Stone and Jonah Hill, then he put his eyes on the phone screen again. "What's it about?"

Drake read the plot. "Two struggling strangers connect during a mind-bending pharmaceutical trial involving a doctor with mother issues and an emotionally complex computer."

"Geez, that does sound like something you'd watch," he replied without looking up from the cell phone.

"I mean, I could look for something else a little more actiony or whatever."

If Drake was going to watch it, Ricardo wanted to watch it with him so he knew what his friend was putting into his brain. With most anything else, he would let him be, but because the plot contained the words "mind-bending pharmaceutical trial," it was a red flag.

"Nah, I'll watch it with you if that's what you wanna chose," he said, " _But_ this is gonna count as your show, and I'll probably choose _24_ next, which has, like, nine or ten seasons and twenty-four hour-long episodes per season."

"That's fine. I was gonna watch it with Clem anyway, but then she made me watch _13 Reasons Why_ instead."

Ricardo couldn't suppress his laughter.

"No, it wasn't bad, though. I mean, the first season was good but also kinda eh, but the second one was amazing. We binged the entire season the day it came out. I cried. A couple times. I also relapsed that night, if you remember. I think I admitted it to you the next day."

"I remember," Ricardo said, "because you were telling me about how there was a disclaimer at the beginning of the episodes that said you shouldn't watch it if you're sensitive to sexual assault and drug addiction since it shows both graphically."

"I feel like, though, it said you should watch with an adult," Drake said. "Clem was there, so I had an adult."

Ricky rolled his eyes with disagreement, then he tossed Drake his phone back. "Yeah, she was still on there for location sharing. I removed her."

"Thanks."

"Alright, let's start this show," the man said, pulling a handle on the side of his chair to let out the footrest.

* * *

Ricardo woke up to the quiet rumbling of an engine right outside his window. His eyes immediately moved to the couch where Drake had been and he saw that he wasn't there. He looked at the television, which was turned off. He didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered from _Maniac_ was seeing the test subjects swallow their first pill.

He heard a high-pitched double click and peeked through the blinds. It was Drake locking up his car and heading up the driveway. Seconds later, the front door opened. Ricardo was suspicious when he heard the boy slowly and quietly close it. Drake started to walk past the living room to head upstairs, but when he peeped into the room, he saw that Ricky was awake and looking in his direction.

"Hey." He came into the living room. "Did I wake you?"

The man shook his head, then rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost two," he answered. "You fell asleep, so I just turned the show off until later."

"You went somewhere?" He didn't mind Drake using his car. He often let him. He was just curious as to where he had gone.

"Oh, yeah. The library." He saw his friend's skepticism and removed his backpack. He unzipped it and held up a book: _Tweak: Growing Up On Methamphetamines_ by Nic Sheff. "They didn't have _Skagboys_."

"The last book from the _Trainspotting_ series?"

"The prequel," was his response. "They let me sign up for a library card and they ordered it from another library that they work with or something? I don't know how it works. They said they would e-mail me when it was delivered to them and they'd hold it for me. I got this one instead. It's due back in two weeks."

"Nic Sheff?" the man said after reading the author's name, which was printed in large letters. "Surprised you didn't get another Irvine Welsh."

"He wrote a couple episodes for _13 Reasons Why_. Clem obviously was obsessed with the show and made me watch this behind-the-scenes panel with the crew thing called _Beyond The Reasons_. Nic Sheff was a guest on there and he just seemed cool and I've been wanting to read his stuff since then."

"Just what you need. Another triggering book."

"I know. I don't know why I can't get interested in anything else." Drake pulled out another book, this one much larger, but also a lot thinner. "Also, I went to the kids' section and got an _ISpy_ book."

"Oh, shit." Ricardo chuckled. "I remember those. Back in elementary school, everyone in the class would always rush to get those before everyone else took them."

"Yeah, and all the girls loved me because I was cute and cool, so they would grab one for me to win my affection, and then they'd be my girlfriend for the week."

"What the fuck? In elementary school?" He laughed. "That was really a thing?"

"Yeah, I actually did that." He opened the book and started looking at the pages. "Turns out I've always sexually exploited myself to get what I wanted."

"That sounds really bad, but also, that's the best story I've ever heard."

Drake glanced up at him with a smirk before turning his attention back to the book.

Ricardo was still laughing. "Dude, some of the things that come out of your mouth are so blunt and raw and shocking." He was glad that his friend could laugh at himself sometimes. "I feel like you could be a comedian."

"Oh, wow. This must be what it feels like to actually have self esteem." He set down his book, then opened his wallet to show off his new library card. "Look at it." He seemed really proud of himself when he held it up.

"Drake Parker actually owns a library card," Ricardo said. "Never thought I'd see the day."

The young man looked at it with admiration. "Isn't it so cool? I wish my mom could see this."

"She'd probably die of a heart attack if she did."

"Right?" He smiled down at his card for a little while longer before putting it back inside his wallet. "I can't wait to tell Julio." He seemed like he was glowing in a way, which made Ricardo happy to see. "I'm super excited. Today's been, like, a really good day." Drake should've known that saying this out loud would only jinx things, which it soon seemed to do.

"Hey, um," Ricardo started, "can we be serious for a second?"

Drake looked at him, his smile slowly fading. "What's up?"

"I thought that maybe...while we're alone...it would be a good time to talk about everything...that happened."

"Oh. Yeah, okay." He hadn't expected this. He thought that it would just be one of those things that neither of them brought up again.

"Well, I never wanted you to feel like you had to leave, but the time alone really did help me work through-"

 _Ding dong!_

Both boys turned their heads towards the direction of the foyer, then met eyes as if to silently ask if either had been expecting company. Ricardo stood, then went over to the front door. Drake heard him open it, then he heard the man ask if whoever it was was okay. Curiously, he stood, then joined him in a flash when he heard Clementine's voice. When he got to the door, he saw that she was weeping and she had a black eye and a split lip.

"What happened?!" Drake asked, stepping forwards. He gripped her chin gently and turned her head so that he could get a better look.

She said nothing as she wrapped her arms around her ex boyfriend, her crying growing louder slightly. Drake squeezed her back, his face showing his confusion. Standing so close to her — touching her again — caused his heart to race. His entire body felt warm. God, how he'd missed her.

"Come inside," Ricardo said. "I'll get some ice."

They separated ways. Drake led her into the living room and guided her to the couch. Instead of joining her, he squatted down in front of her and met her eyes, which she tried to hide by hanging her head.

"Babe, what happened?"

Ricky joined them again. He handed her a bag of frozen vegetable to put on her eye, then he passed Drake a wet napkin. Drake gently started dabbing away the dried blood on her lip.

"Who did this?" Ricky asked.

"Carter," her voice cracked out.

Drake saw Ricardo's clueless expression and explained, "Her boyfriend."

" _Ex_ boyfriend," she corrected.

"What a piece of shit," Ricardo said. Despite not being a huge fan of Dahlia's, he never felt like she deserved this (even though Drake had come home from her house looking like this many times before).

"Where is he?" Drake asked.

Clem saw that he was pissed and looking for a fight. "I don't know. He's gone. Brett and Sam came home when he was hitting me. Brett beat him up and kicked him out."

"Can I get you something?" Ricardo asked. "Some water or some ibuprofen?"

"That sounds great, thanks."

Drake set the wet napkin onto the table. He placed his hand on her cheek, caressing it softly. He used his thumb to wipe away a tear. "I'm so sorry," he said. "You don't deserve that."

"He was a horrible geezer," she said. "And the things he said to you that day-"

"Hey, don't even worry about it," he said. He sat down next to her now and wrapped his arms around her.

"I never even liked him like that. He was just dishy and I was mad at you. I wanted to make you jealous. It's stupid and wrong, I know."

"It's okay," Drake said. "I'm just sorry this happened." He wasn't sure what to say, so he resorted to what he always did around her: profusely apologizing when he wasn't even at fault.

"Here you go," Ricardo said when he came back into the living room. He passed her the medicine and water and watched her swallow it down. He took a seat on the corner of the coffee table in front of her. "What happened," he asked calmly. "Why did he hit you?"

Dahlia said, "He'd always go to the pub and get trollied and then come back to the gaff narky and hit me. He said he'd stop. He swore down, but he didn't. I told him it was over, but he got mad. He slapped me on the gob and punched me. I was arse over tit when Brett and Sam came in."

Ricardo only understood bits and pieces, but Drake seemed to comprehend the whole thing. He could fill him in later.

Clementine looked up at Drake with sad, puppy dog eyes. "Can we talk?"

Ricky started to stand. "I can give you some time."

"It's okay. We'll go to my room." Drake gripped her hand and led her upstairs. He closed the door behind him, then joined her on the bed.

"I was there last night," she said, "at your gig. That's what set him off."

Again, Drake embraced her. "I'm so sorry."

"He showed up there when he found out. One of his mates told him, I suppose. He tried to make me leave, but I wouldn't. I already wanted to break up with him because my girlfriend said she saw him snogging some sket at the mall. I guess he knew I was missing you because he came prepared," she said. "He's the one who threw the pills at you and kept yelling at you to take them."

The events of last night played over in his mind. The lights had been so bright that he hadn't really been able to see into the audience. This definitely sounded like something that prick would do. He remembered hearing that one taunting voice that had started it all, then everyone had joined in the chanting. Now that he knew who had done it, it was embarrassing that he had walked off stage, basically giving him what he had wanted.

"Did you use?" Clem asked quietly, feeling as if she didn't have the right to ask.

"No," the boy answered, his voice just as soft, if not more. "I mean, I almost did, but I came here and Ricky talked me out of it."

"I'm really sorry that plonker did that. He was jealous of you. He knew I still had feelings for you."

Drake's heart started pounding faster and he was pretty sure that she could feel it. "I'm still in love with you," he admitted. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

She closed her eyes as her head continued to rest against his chest. As she listened to his heartbeat, she gripped one of his hands and intertwined her fingers with his. He missed the touch of her skin.

"I made a mistake sending you away that day."

"It's okay. I don't blame you. I acted selfishly," he said. "I'm sorry I left."

She lifted her hand, which he was still clutching, up to his mouth so that he could kiss it, allowing her to feel the touch of his lips on her skin. He then kissed the top of her head.

"I'm sorry I told him about your past. I was just so angry-"

"I know," he whispered.

"When he said all those awful things to you-"

"It's okay," Drake assured.

She lifted her head then, then met his eyes. For a long time, she stared into them and he into hers, then she leaned closer and pressed her lips against his. Drake's heart exploded now. He rested his hand on her cheek, then she reached up and held onto it.

Drake only pulled away to say a quick but meaningful, "I love you."

They were immediately connected at the lips again. Their breathing got louder and their kiss got more passionate. Now, predictably, it was time for make-up sex. In no time, she had pushed him back onto his mattress and was on top of him. Their hands slid up and down each other's bodies and their tongues wrestled together. Clem wasted no time. She pulled off his shirt, then she unfastened the button on her lover's jeans and unzipped them.

"Tell me how much you love me," she whispered.

As her lips made their way down his neck, he did. Slowly, her mouth moved lower...lower...lower. Drake's chest lifted and fell, his breaths heavy. It wasn't long before his penis was engulfed in a wet sort of warmth.

Suddenly, the door opened. "Yo, Drake — shit!"

"Julio, you can't fucking knock?!"

The boy turned around to avoid seeing more. "I didn't know she was here. I mean, I knew she was here because I saw her car, but I didn't know you guys were busy," he said. He was laughing hysterically. "I picked up a pizza. I was coming to see if either of you wanted some. I guess she won't be hungry after this, though?" he joked.

The girl giggled.

Drake tossed a pillow at his annoying friend. "Get the _fuck_ out!"

"Alright, alright."

When he was gone, Drake let go of his breath. "Christ," he said. "I'm sorry about him."

Dahlia didn't seem to mind. She continued her work on him, but a couple minutes had passed and he still wasn't hard. Although he wanted this, his mind was somewhere else. He gently pushed her away and she looked up at him questioningly.

"I can't do this," he said, buttoning his pants back up. "Sorry."

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Is this because of Julio? This isn't the first time one of your roommates has walked in on us."

"No." Drake sat up and turned his back to her. He picked his shirt up and started putting it back on. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" She was on her knees behind him now, her hands rubbing up and down his biceps.

He sighed, then hung his head. He felt incredibly ashamed, but he knew he had to tell her. "Babe..." He couldn't find the right words. He quietly cursed, this rubbed his forehead.

"What is it?" Clementine turned his body towards her, but he kept his head down. "Tell me."

"When I relapsed..." he started. "I... Things got really bad. I was really desperate for drugs and cash. I did some things that..."

"What did you do?" She never took her eyes off of him, which made him nervous.

This was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to admit out loud. His voice was quiet and she could hear his shame. "I slept with other people...for money...and for drugs."

"Oh..." she said, taken aback by this. She backed away, her mind racing. "How many people?"

"I... A lot," he admitted. "I don't know." He still couldn't look at her.

" _About_ how many?" she asked, hoping for an estimate.

He had to give it to her. He owed it to her. He shook his head. "Thirty...maybe? Seventy?" He'd been so fucked up that he couldn't remember, but it had been enough to pay for a hotel room for over a month, to eat and to buy other basic necessities (including Triple C's).

"Thirty or seventy?" She felt like that was a pretty big gap.

"Maybe more."

"More? More than seventy?"

He covered his face with his hands. Clearly, he regretted his actions.

"Were they all girls our age?" It sounded like she was trying to size up the competition.

"They were all guys," he admitted. "Like...older men."

She had to take a breath before she said, "Oh." This came as a surprise. "Like, just blowjobs or...?"

"Sometimes more," he said.

"Wow." She let go of her breath.

He felt disgusting. "I'm really sorry," he said, but he doubted that it would help. "I just..." He shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"You slept with a bunch of strangers and you let me put my mouth on your dick?"

"I got tested and they all came out negative," he said, but he knew that wouldn't make it better. "I'm sorry. I should've said something sooner."

"This is a lot to take in," she said.

He was honestly shocked that she hadn't started yelling or cussing or name-calling or hitting yet. "I know," he said. "I know I fucked everything up. I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," she said, to his surprise. "I don't know how I feel. I'm just kind of sad, I suppose."

"I'm sorry," was all he could say.

"Will you look at me?"

He still wouldn't, so she moved her hand to his cheek and turned his head for him. He kept it low still and she could see just how ashamed he was. She kissed his forehead, then rubbed her thumb against his skin.

"We don't have to shag," she said. "We can just talk."

"About what?"

"I'm curious to know what happened while you were gone. You tell me what you did and I'll tell you what I did."

It was then that he somehow just remembered that she had slept with Carter. This thought angered him, but he knew he had no right to be mad. He was the one who had caused all this. She'd slept with one guy. What he had done was much, much worse.

"Okay," he agreed.

The two laid back, resting their heads against the pillows. Drake admitted every little detail that he could remember to her, even the thing with Mrs. Hayfer and her husband and Dev and Ricardo. He wept for a long time, which was expected. When it was her turn, she admitted to sleeping with Carter. The rest of her story wasn't bad. She mainly just caught him up on what her life had been like over the past couple months. She seemed very casual and forgiving about the whole thing actually. Drake wasn't sure how, but he absolutely loved her for it.

* * *

"And you passed?" Ricardo asked his brother, who was sitting on the couch where Drake had been earlier.

Julio was drinking a beer. When he swallowed some done, he said, "Yeah. I mean, I got an eighty-three, but that's still okay."

"It is," the man assured. "I know you were stressing about it. I'm glad it's over with."

Just then, then heard two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs. Drake was holding Clementine's hand with one hand and he opened the front door with the other.

The girl stepped outside, then turned back to him. "We'll talk soon, yeah?"

"Okay."

She gave him a hug before she left. Drake was going to head back upstairs, but the two eavesdroppers called him into the living room.

"She's not staying for pizza?" Ricardo asked.

"Nah," the boy answered, his eyes on the ground and his hands in his pockets. This was a sign that he was pushing them away and building up a wall although he didn't realize that he was doing it.

"Sorry I interrupted your little 'chat.'" Julio said with a grin. "At least someone in this house is getting laid."

"No, actually, we stopped after you left."

"Well, shit, I didn't mean to cock-block you."

"You didn't. I cock-blocked myself," he said. Seeing they they expected a more elaborate explanation and that they weren't gonna let him go isolate himself, he sat down on the couch with Julio. "I started thinking about all the stuff I did on the streets and I knew I couldn't hide it from her forever, so I told her everything."

"How'd she take that?" asked Ricardo.

"I don't know. She seemed okay. She wasn't mad or anything. She just said that it was a lot to process and that she needed time to think about everything before jumping back into a relationship, which I guess I understand because I did do a lot of unforgivable shit."

"Are you okay?" the oldest asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay. It went a lot better than I expected."

"I definitely thought she was gonna cut your nuts off," Julio said.

Drake leaned forwards and opened the box of pizza, which was half-gone. He took a slice, then saw a paper sitting on the coffee table. He turned it so that it wasn't upside-down. "This your test?"

"Yup. I got the results of the test back. I definitely have breast cancer." This was a reference from the movie _The Room_ , which was possibly the best worst movie ever made and one that the three of them quoted constantly.

"You passed?"

"Yeah. Eighty-three, son!"

"Dope." Drake gave him a high-five when Julio held up his hand.

"All that studying paid off," Ricky said.

"I know. I think our system really helped a lot, too."

Julio had made flashcards that both Drake and Ricardo had quizzed him on at times. They'd gone over the subject matter so much that both of the boys who weren't in collage could've passed the test. Sometimes Ricardo had given him a pop quiz in his car if they went somewhere or Drake would question him over dinner.

Speaking of dinner...

"So who's getting stuck with cooking tonight?" Julio asked. "I'm starving."

"It's a little early," was Ricardo's response.

"By the time it's done, it'll be dinnertime, though."

Two heads turned and two pairs of eyes met Drake's. When it came to decisions such as these, you had to be the first to make a silent connection or else the other two would gang up on you, which was happening to Drake right now.

"Oh, come on," the boy said. "You guys always stick together."

"It's because you're the best cook," Ricardo said, but his flattery wasn't working on Drake.

"I cook more than both of you combined," he said.

"Yeah, but you've been gone for the past week," said Julio. "Which means you haven't cooked in a week. I've cooked four times. Ricardo, have you cooked this week?" He already knew the answer.

The man nodded. "Twice."

"Ricardo's cooked two times," Julio said. "How many times have you cooked, Drake?" He spoke in a serious tone although this was all somewhat of a joke.

The boy just looked from Julio to Ricky and back again. "None, but-"

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Julio said, cupping his hand behind his ear as if to tell his friend that he needed to speak louder.

Again, Drake repeated himself, and again, he was cut off. "None, but-"

"Well, since you haven't cooked all week, I think it's only fair that you take the next three nights," Julio said.

"And dishes, right?" added Ricardo.

"It's only fair," Julio said again with a nod.

Drake groaned. "You guys are so fucking annoying." Suddenly, he remembered something. "And you just had pizza."

"That was, like, two hours ago."

The oldest agreed. "Yeah, that was lunch."

Drake sighed. "Whatever. Fine." He stood to go see what they had in the kitchen.

"That squash and zucchini has been in there for a minute. We should make it tonight before it gets old," Julio said. "You can probably just cut them up and sauté them."

"And while I'm at it, I'm gonna slit my throat."

"Dramatic much?" Ricky said.

"Just don't do it over the food," said Julio.

* * *

Drake exhaled and a cloud of smoke left his lips. The rain was still going strong, which made him feel incredibly calm, so he'd left the kitchen door open so that he could hear it better. There wasn't much to look at. This door was on the side of the house, so straight ahead was a line of trees that divided their yard from the neighbors. There wasn't any sort of protection from the rain here, so he stood right inside the door. When the oven timer beeped, he tossed his cigarette and wafted the smell out as best as he could before closing the door.

He pulled out the tilapia and set the pan on the stove top. "Dinner's done," he called.

He turned off the beeping timer, then opened the cabinets and pulled out three plates. He put a fork on each, then he went ahead and made his own plate. He scooped up one of the pieces of fish with a spatula, then poured the squash/zucchini mixture onto his plate. Even after he did all this, he was still the only one in the kitchen. Ricardo was upstairs, but Julio was napping on the couch.

Drake went into the living room. "Hey, are you gonna eat?" he asked softly. Just as his friend started to open his eyes, Drake noticed a tiny ball of fluff on top of Julio's stomach. He'd almost missed it because it was black and almost blended in with the dark colored blanket the boy was using. "You know you have a cat on top of you?"

Julio's voice sounded like what most voices sound like after a nap. "What?"

"Did you get a cat?"

"No." Julio looked down at his chest. "The fuck?" He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"This isn't your cat?" Drake was still asking.

He squatted down and reached out, gently rubbing his thumb and pointer finger across the small kitten's fur. With this, the cat lifted its head and leaned into his hand. It opened its eyes and looked up at Drake.

"Its fur's wet. Maybe it came in to get out of the rain. I had the kitchen door opened the whole time I was cooking."

"You really didn't just put this cat on me?" Julio asked.

"No."

Drake let the animal smell his hand so that he wouldn't be freaked out when he made a move to lift the cat. It hardly bothered to sniff. Instead, it rubbed its head against his skin, so the boy scooped up the kitten and held it against his chest so that Julio could sit up. It was then that Ricardo came into the room.

"I was in the bathroom," he said, explaining why he didn't come down when he was called. His eyes immediately moved to the small animal in Drake's hand. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

"I woke up and it was just laying on top of me," said Julio.

"Meow," went the cat. It was high-pitched, but soft, like most kittens'.

"It's so thin," Drake noticed. "It looks like it's starving."

It was black and it reminded him of his old kitten, Fonzie. His father had given it to him on his birthday years ago, then he'd later proceeded to brutally torture and kill it just to hurt Drake. He'd loved that cat, but after its cruel death, he'd vowed to never ever get another animal. However, Martin was gone now and he couldn't do anything to this one.

Drake looked up at Ricky with a smile. Just by the expression on his face alone, Ricardo knew that his friend was asking if they could keep it.

"So I have an idea," Drake started.

Ricardo didn't mind having a cat around as long as he didn't have to deal with the litter box. They weren't rich by any means, but money wasn't currently incredibly tight either at the moment. Although Drake was jobless and Julio only had the money left over from his school grants, Ricardo's income was sufficient enough to provide basic necessities for all three. A cat wouldn't hurt them financially.

"I'm not cleaning up after it," Ricky said.

"So it can stay?"

Most parents buy their child a pet when they want to teach them responsibility. Ricardo, however, allowed him to keep it in hopes that, if Drake started craving and wanting to go back to his old way of living, maybe having something that actually depended on him would be more of an incentive to stay clean.

"I also don't wanna clean up after it," Julio interceded.

"I'll do it," Drake said. Again, he asked, "So we can keep it?"

Just to be sure, Ricardo looked down at his brother, who shrugged. "Why not?" he said. "We can pick up some things after dinner. I have to return this Redbox movie anyway."

They made their way into the kitchen and started getting their food. Drake hung back and leaned against the island as he pet his new cat.

"What movie did you get?" Julio asked his older brother.

" _Sorry To Bother You_."

"Would I have liked it?"

"Mm..." He looked up in thought for a seconds. "Probably not. It's not your usual type."

"What does that mean?"

The best way Ricky could think to describe it was by saying, "It's a Drake movie."

"Ah."

"And it was really good," Drake added.

The cat was sticking its claws into his shirt and skin and meowing nonstop as it climbed up his chest. It made its way to his shoulder and meowed some more.

"It smells food," Julio said.

"That's probably what drew him here in the first place if you left the door open."

They went back into the living room to eat. Drake grabbed his cat so that he wouldn't fall off of his shoulder, then he picked up the plate he had made earlier. He carried both into the living room and sat down on the floor. He put his kitten down, but it climbed up onto his legs and bumped his plate with its head.

"Can I have one of your napkins?"

Julio gave him one, then Drake used his fork to cut up a fourth of his tilapia into small chunks. He put them on the napkin for the cat to eat.

"What are you gonna name it?" Julio asked as Ricardo searched for something to watch.

"I don't know yet."

Ricardo decided on _Key & Peele_ despite the fact that all three boys had already seen every episode of it. They finished their dinner before the first episode was over. Drake left the cat in his room so that it could get used to his smell and, accordingly, to him. It was just himself and Ricardo in the car. Julio had stayed back to do some homework.

"Thanks for letting me keep the kitten," Drake said.

Ricardo gave him a small smile as he glanced at him, then he put his eyes back on the road. It was still raining down hard.

"Today's been a really good day," he said. "Even with Clem showing up. That went a lot better than it could have. I feel really good about today."

"That's good," the man said in an upbeat voice.

"Oh, I almost forgot, though. You said you wanted to talk about something serious?" said Drake. "Before Clem came by."

"Uh, yeah, um..." He waved his hand as if to say it wasn't a big deal. "No, it's fine. We can talk about it later."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's really not even that serious."

Drake wanted to prod more, but he feared that his friend would only distance himself like last time. Instead of continuing the conversation, he turned on the radio and let the sound of Twenty-One Pilot's new song fill his ears. He opened his mouth to sing along, but Ricky clicked a button on the radio.

"Nuh-uh. My car, my music. Remember that."

Ricardo used to always scold Drake when he called him Ricky instead of his real name. It had taken years, but eventually, the man had warmed up to it (or maybe he'd just gotten tired of correcting him). Maybe one day in the future, Drake will be able to get him to share the radio as well.

* * *

Drake softly rapped on the cracked-open door with his knuckles. Ricardo looked up from his phone as he pushed the door open the rest of the way. The younger boy was holding his cat.

"Hey," Drake said.

"Hey," the man said back. "You going to bed?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Is Julio already asleep?"

"Are you kidding? You can't hear him snoring from there?"

Ricardo cracked a grin. "Miraculously, I do not, actually."

"I'm just glad my room's not across from his," Drake said. "I probably would've killed myself." Despite it being a serious matter, he casually spouted this phrase all the time. Although he had a much better control on them now, suicidal thoughts were still things he dealt with regularly. He was so used to feeling this way that he talked about it with nonchalance and people who didn't know him well thought him to be extremely blunt. "So," he started to break the silence, "I don't wanna keep bothering you about it — tell me if I am — but I don't want you to think I'm shrugging you off either, so like, if you wanna, like — I mean because — because we can, like — or if you don't want to, that's okay, too." He was nervous. Why was he nervous?

"We don't have to talk about it right now," Ricardo said.

Drake wondered if it was because he was uncomfortable being alone with him in his room due to what it may look like.

"Okay, well...okay." Drake pulled himself away from the doorway and started to turn, but stopped as he petted his cat. "Oh, yeah. No particular reason, but do we have any carpet cleaner?" he asked. Again, he added, "For no particular reason."

Ricardo's lips cracked upwards ever so slightly. "Hall closet."

"Hmm," Drake said with a nod. "Good to know...in case something came up and I needed it."

The man rolled his eyes and looked back down at his phone. "Goodnight, Drake."

* * *

"Bitch..." that familiar voice said over the phone. It was Rhinestone, but he was clean now, so he liked to go by his real name: Tarence. Rhinestone was his 'addict alter ego' or whatever, but Drake still called him Rhinestone just because he had known him by that name for so long. "I didn't think you were gonna answer. Where the fuck have you been?"

"I had a bad relapse," Drake admitted as he scrubbed his carpet with his free hand. He instinctively looked at the clock to check the time because he knew that, anytime Rhinestone called, he could be stuck on the phone for hours and he always called at night.

"Well, shit. How'd that happen?"

"I don't know. I just used once and it kinda spiraled. I turned off my phone so Clem couldn't track me. I was gone for two months."

"Goddamn," he said. "You're sober now, though?"

"Eleven days," was his response. Quieter, almost to himself, he added, "Eleven long, grueling days."

"That's good," he said. "I've been in your place plenty of times before. The beginning is always the hardest, but keep at it."

"Thanks."

"You're back home with Ricardo and Julio?"

"Yeah."

"Does Dahlia still talk to you?"

"She came over today and we started talking things out."

Drake kept it short because he knew that Rhinestone didn't call to hear about his latest relapse. Anytime Rhinestone called, it was because he had a story or a crisis or something and he could talk about it for hours. Drake didn't mind. He still loved him and considered him a friend despite everything. However, he felt like he kept a healthy distance from him. One thing that greatly helped this was the fact that, two years ago, Rhinestone had moved in with this guy he met online, who lived in Las Vegas. His good-looking, forty-year-old, Hispanic boyfriend's name was Zachary.

"So what's up with you?" Drake asked as he pushed himself out of the floor, thankful that his cat's accident didn't stink up his room.

"Boo, okay, so let me tell you. I have gonorrhea." However, he was laughing hysterically, which he sometimes did to avoid crying.

"What?"

"Okay, so you know how I told you about that time I cheated on Zach several months ago?"

Drake remembered. A while ago, Rhinestone had admitted to Drake that he missed the way his sexual life had been on meth. Despite confidently telling his friend that he wouldn't relapse or cheat, Drake received a call a couple weeks later detailing how Rhinestone had done both. It went like this: Rhinestone had been walking down the strip when a car pulled up to the curb. He kept walking, but was called over by the stranger. For whatever reason, he got in the car with him. Rhinestone ended up performing a handjob and oral on him, then the guy asked if he wanted any meth. Crazy right? It was almost unbelievable, but this was the kind of thing that always happened to Rhinestone. Sometimes you just have that druggie look and other users just know, even when you've been clean. Drake's also had his fair share of outrageous experiences, he supposed, but Rhinestone's life just always seemed even more chaotic and drama-filled somehow.

Afterwards, but not immediately afterwards, he'd told Drake about what had happened. He needed advice because it was hard carrying that secret and he felt like his boyfriend was starting to notice that he was acting differently in bed. After hearing Rhinestone's story, the best advice that Drake could come up with was to tell the truth. However, he didn't just end with that because he didn't want to be responsible if something bad happened, so he gave him a rundown of what would most likely happen afterwards, which was basically that Zachary would probably leave him, Rhinestone would have to move back in with family in California and start over finding a job, home and boyfriend. Drake made sure he made this clear because he didn't want Rhinestone taking his advice and then blaming him later when his life went to shit. He just felt like the truth was always the best way to go. Surprisingly enough, while he was drunk, Tarence admitted to his boyfriend what he had done and, after a rough patch, things had worked out.

"Yeah," Drake said. "I remember."

"And remember how I told you that he admitted to sleeping with his ex a few months ago?"

Rhinestone was one of the most forgiving people that Drake knew. He felt like this made them even, but even if someone had done him wrong first, he was quick to forgive.

"Yeah," said Drake.

"So it could be either one of us. We don't know who gave it to whom." Again, he laughed in his signature high-pitched squeal.

Drake couldn't help but chuckle along with him. Rhinestone's life was both insane and entertaining at times, so as long as he was laughing, then it was okay for Drake to laugh, too.

"So how did you find out? You got tested?"

"Yeah, well, he's always saying that we need to get tested. Ever since that time with me and that guy in the car, he's like, 'We need to get tested. We need to get tested,' but he never does it. I was off a few days ago and I went up to the free clinic and got tested. They gave me the HIV results there and they came back negative, but I had to wait for the others. They were e-mailed today."

"How did his come back?"

"He hasn't gotten tested yet. I guess he figured he'd just wait and see what my results were."

"What did he say when you told him?"

Drake always asked questions to make sure he sounded interested. It's not that he wasn't; he was just best at listening. Also, he'd learned that Rhinestone would ramble on and repeat things over and over again if you didn't ask questions to keep the conversation going. Even without methamphetamines, Rhinestone was hyper and verbose, making it hard to tell the difference sometimes.

"He seemed okay with it. He wasn't mad."

"That's good."

"Well, I don't know. I think maybe it's because he got it and knew he had it because he was the one who kept pushing for us to get tested. And then he was okay when I came back positive? It's just sketchy."

"It's treatable, though. Maybe that's why he's okay with it."

There was a pause and his voice came from further away. "Now he's saying it had to be me that gave it to him."

"He just texted you that?"

"Yeah. Hold on."

As Drake waited, he rubbed his cat's soft fur. It was a miracle if he and Rhinestone could have a phone call without his friend receiving another call or text and making him hold.

When Rhinestone spoke again, he said, "Okay, so, yeah. He said it had to've been from me because he only slept with his ex and he knows the crowd that his ex has been with and knows they don't have it. Hold on." He was gone for another bit of time, but it wasn't incredibly long. "But anyways, yeah, because he always felt like what I did was worse because I went and fucked a total stranger and he just slept with his ex."

"I don't see how that makes sense," Drake said. "If you fuck a stranger, I mean, it's not okay, but if you fuck your ex, there are, like, emotions involved and shit."

"Exactly. Plus, I just did hand and mouth stuff. He actually full-on fucked his ex," Rhinestone said, "and he lied about it. When he told me what he did — because I tracked his location with my phone when he wasn't home after I got off of work — he just said that his ex tried to touch him, but he pushed him away. It wasn't until weeks later when I was drinking that he told me his ex sucked his dick, and just recently, he admitted that they actually did have sex."

"Shit," was all Drake could say. He had no idea how on earth the two guys were still together, although he couldn't really talk, he supposed, because Clem had tracked his location plenty of times before.

"But anyway, yeah, so they sent an e-mail and it had a list of a bunch of STD's, and it was, like, ' _negative, negative, negative_ ,' and then it had ' _anal gonorrhea: positive_.' I was like, 'oh, shit.'" More high-pitched laughter.

"Anal?"

"Yeah, because there's three of them. There's oral, anal, and penile. That's a funny word."

"But when you cheated on him, you only did oral."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"If you have it in one place, can it just come up in other places?" Drake didn't know because he'd never had an STD or STI or whatever it was before.

"...I don't know..." Rhinestone was piecing together a puzzle. "Hold up. Lemme go back to my e-mail. I don't even think I finished it. I read anal gonorrhea and stopped and cried a little bit." After a minute, he said, "It says negative for both oral and penile gonorrhea, which means I had to have gotten it from Zach because no one else has put their dick up my butt," he assumed. "That means he has penile gonorrhea and he got it from fucking his ex up his butt."

"Do you think that's how that works?"

"I don't know. I've gotta go back up to the clinic tomorrow for medicine and stuff. I'm gonna ask." He laughed. "Oh my God, this is so great. Zach was trying to blame me and it wasn't even me. It was him and his ex and 'the crowd he knows his ex hangs around that wouldn't have it.'"

"Plot twist."

"Right? I can't wait. I'm gonna be like — I'm not gonna rub it in or anything like he would. I'm just gonna calmly explain to him that I only tested positive for anal gonorrhea, and his penis is the only penis that has been up there. I'll be like, 'So the only way I could've caught it would be from... _you_.'"

"Christ," Drake laughed. "Well, just don't say anything, though, until you ask the people at the clinic because you don't wanna say that and then be told that that's not how it works."

"Yeah, you're right. I'll wait until tomorrow, _then_ I'm gonna tell him."

Drake noticed that his friend was much less...all over the place than normal. Also, he didn't sound drunk and he usually always called drunk. After quitting meth, Rhinestone had developed quite the drinking habit while living in Las Vegas despite rarely leaving the house other than for work.

"Are you back on your meds?"

"I am," Rhinestone said.

"I can tell. You're a lot less impulsive."

"And I quit drinking a month ago," he said.

He used to call Drake in the middle of the night crying about arguments he had with his boyfriend that started because of his drinking. There was hitting, name-calling, yelling, holes in the wall, things thrown off the dresser and onto the floor, an accidental (or possibly not) overdose on Ambien and Fireball, and much more.

"That's fucking awesome!" Drake congratulated.

His life seemed to center around congratulating others and being congratulated on sobriety. To any normal person, it probably didn't seem like much of a feat. Sometimes he liked to think back to when he was in his teens. Before he had started using Triple C's, he used to be able to hold normal conversations with people. He could get out of bed and pick out his outfit and get done what needed to get done that day. After he started using, he became dependent on the pills pretty quickly. The tasks he had been able to do without putting any effort into them became too overwhelming after he cleaned up. Getting out of bed without drugs was damn near impossible. Picking an outfit and making other decisions were stressful. Getting shit done — well, what was he doing with his life? Nothing. And talking to people was hard to do unless he knew them well.

It was crazy. Something that meant so little to most people meant everything to him — meant life or death for him. He wondered what was incredibly important to some other people that meant little to him. Maybe everyone felt the same things despite feeling that way about different things.

Rhinestone sighed with satisfaction. "Huh, I'm so glad I called you."

"You better call me tomorrow when you get out of the clinic and tell me what they say about how you got it. I'm very invested in this now."

"Boo, you know I will."

They continued talking about this subject for a little while longer, then the conversation turned to movies, Netflix and television shows, just like it always did. Rhinestone watched a lot of the same shows as he did, like _American Horror Story_ and _Shameless_. They revisited the gonorrhea conversation and the currently-watching conversation a couple more times in between each one sprinkling in less exciting stories of recent events: Rhinestone, who had recently been promoted to manager at McDonald's, talked about having four people call out in one shift while Drake told the story about getting a library card, which he still kept short. They were on the phone for a total of an hour and thirteen minutes before they said their goodbyes.

Drake plugged his phone in to charge, then he laid his head against the pillow and rested his eyes. His cat, who had been exploring the bedroom, later joined him on the bed. He was so small that he needed the boy's help. He curled up next to Drake's neck and purred himself to sleep. As the young man closed his eyes again, he hoped that tomorrow would be just as great of a day as today was. He was a lot more tired than he had thought. Within twenty minutes, he was fast asleep.

* * *

A sharp pain shot through Drake's toe, waking him. He shook it off, but another one zipped through his foot. The tired boy groaned as he looked down at his feet, where his cat was playing curiously with his toes, which sometimes wiggled involuntarily underneath the comforter and attracted the animal's attention.

"Stop," Drake said quietly.

He used his foot to push the cat onto the other side of the bed. Mistaking this for play, the hyper kitten pounced on him, digging its claws into his skin once again. Drake scooted her away again. This process repeated way more times than it should have because Drake was so tired, but finally, he sat up and got ready to start his day. He took a deep breath through his nostrils and stretched, then he reached for his phone. The first thing he noticed was the time: 4:22.

"What the fuck?" he said to his cat.

He picked up the animal and put him on the floor so that he couldn't be bothered, then he laid his head on the pillow again, hoping that he could go back to sleep. However, his new pet began its high-pitched meowing when it couldn't climb all the way up the side of Drake's bed. Eventually, the boy gave up on sleep and stood. He wasn't feel sick anymore like last week, so he figured that, although he didn't want to, today would be a good day to start jogging again.

He called Julio from the upstairs bathroom as he brushed his teeth. His friend answered the second time he called. Seeing Drake's name on his phone so early sent a wave of panic through him and he feared that something bad had happened.

"Hey." His voice expressed his anxiety and confusion even though he tried to hide it.

Drake's voice was muffled from the toothbrush. "Are you ready for our jog?"

"Where are you?"

"The bathroom."

"Here?" Despite the sudden jolt of panic he'd felt receiving this phone call, he was still half asleep.

"Yes, I'm here."

There was a pause as Julio pieced all this together and realized that Drake was fine, then he said, "Why are you calling me so early?"

"To jog," Drake said again.

"Oh..." Julio wanted to say no, but he knew that this was Drake pushing him to do better just like they'd agreed to do for each other on the mountain that day. "Okay. Give me a sec."

After roughly twenty to thirty minutes, both boys were dressed and downstairs, the cat was fed and they were ready to go.

Drake asked something that had been on his mind since his phone call. "Did me calling make you panic? I thought you'd rather have me call than walk into your room, but..."

"I'd rather you wake me up in my room," Julio said, confirming that he had woken up anxious as fuck.

"Sorry," Drake said. He felt incredibly guilty and he wished that he could take that feeling of nervousness away from his friend and instead feel it himself. He wanted to make him feel better, but he didn't exactly have the means to do so. "You want a cigarette or something?"

"No, it's okay," Julio assured. He gave him a small smile, which only made Drake feel worse because Julio was pretending to be okay for his sake.

"I'm sorry," Drake said again.

"It's okay. I'll feel better when we run. Is the cat still in your room?" he asked, scanning the floor before he opened the front door.

"Yeah."

The two boys went outside for their morning jog and, just like he'd said, Julio felt much better during it.

* * *

Ricardo slumped down the stairs and into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, which Drake had probably made for him, then he went through the foyer and into the living room, where he saw the boy, his hair damp from a recent shower. His eyes moved towards the television screen that his roommate was staring at.

"You're seriously watching _Home Alone_ right now? Literally, we're days away from March."

"I didn't really get to do the whole holiday thing because I wasn't home," Drake responded, softly stroking his cat's fur as she rested peacefully in his lap.

"Why are you up so early?"

"Julio and I went for a run."

Ricardo sat down on his favorite recliner and sipped at his coffee while listening to the sound of the pouring rain beating down on the ground outside. "You guys went running in this?"

"It didn't start until we got back," he said. "You work today?"

"Yeah. Night shift, so it'll just be you and Julio for dinner."

"Julio's got a thing."

"What thing?"

Drake shrugged. "Study group, I guess."

"You gonna be okay on your own then?"

"I'll be fine." He saw that his friend was still worried, so he added, "I'll come up to the bar if I need to."

When Drake stopped rubbing his kitten's head, it lifted the upper half of its body and looked at him. After giving the boy a nudge and receiving no attention, it jumped down and went over to Ricardo.

"Ow! Christ!" The man set his coffee down before the cat finished climbing up his leg.

"Her nails are sharp as fuck," Drake said. He lifted his hand to show off a few long, fresh-looking scratches on his skin.

"Her?"

"I don't know. I'm just gonna assume she's a girl until she's old enough to grow balls."

"Name her yet?"

"I'm thinking Macaulay."

Ricardo glanced at the t.v. "After Macaulay Culkin?"

"I guess. I just like the name."

"It's a boy's name."

"Whatever," Drake said.

"You pick the weirdest names. Your other cat had a human name, too. You couldn't think of a cute cat name?"

"Cat names are so boring," he said. A wave of sadness hit him when he was reminded of Fonzie and his cruel death.

Wanting to be left alone, Ricardo put the cat on the floor, then picked up his coffee. "Got any plans for today?"

"I'll probably read a little, fill out some job applications, maybe go see Meelah."

"Wow." The man took a breath. He was immediately concerned by what Drake said. "Sounds like a big day. Firstly, you don't have to look for another job. You can come back to the bar."

"I think they all hate me."

"Trust me, Drake. They don't hate you. They ask about you all the time."

"I don't know. I might just wanna do my own thing," he said, but now that the bar offer was on the table, he would definitely consider going back.

"I understand, but even if you do wanna switch it up — I mean, do what you want — but I still feel like it's a little early, you know?"

"Yeah," Drake said uncertainly.

"I know you feel guilty about not paying for anything, but it's really okay. I don't want you to rush into anything. When Julio's anxiety got really bad and he quit his job, you and I took care of all the bills and shit until he worked through it and decided he was going to go to college and he got all that financial aid money. We're family. We take care of each other."

"Yeah, okay," he said more confidently now.

"I mean, but if you really wanna go back to work, obviously, I can't stop you. I just feel like your recovery should come first."

"You're right," said Drake. "I just hate not being able to help out."

"Why do you think you get stuck with dinner and dishes all the time?"

The young man cracked a smile.

"Plus, you keep things nice and tidy. I even noticed you finished up my laundry the other day. I definitely don't mind you staying home," Ricardo said. "Now about going to see Meelah-"

The front door opened with a, "I got doughnuts!" then a, "Oh, shit!"

"What happened?" Ricardo stood up.

Julio came around the corner with a box of a dozen doughnuts in his hand. "Drake, I'm sorry. Your cat just ran right past me."

The boy got off the couch and looked out the door, but he saw no sign of his kitten. "Did you see which way she went?"

"I think she went over towards the trees." He pointed with his head since his hands are full. "I'm so sorry. I can help you look for her."

Julio passed the box to Ricky and the two boys headed outside in the pouring rain. They called the cat by name and made clicking noises with their tongues. After five or ten minutes with no results, they gave up the search and headed back inside, both dripping with water.

"I'm so sorry," Julio said again, the pit of his stomach filled with guilt.

"It's okay," Drake assured. He understood that it was just an accident. In fact, he blamed himself more than he did Julio. He should've been watching her.

Ricardo approached from the kitchen. "Find her?"

"No," Drake said.

He patted his friend's shoulder. "She'll come back. She knows where she gets her food."

That's right. They fed her and Macaulay ate good here. Last night was fish. This morning was...well, it was cat food. This gave him some hope.

"I'm sorry," Julio said, still apologizing.

"Don't worry about it," said Drake. "Ricky's right. She'll probably come back."

The three boys made their way into the kitchen. Ricardo grabbed a doughnut and Julio picked up two and wrapped them up in a napkin. He was unable to eat them now because his guilt made him nervous, which in turn made him sick to his stomach.

"I have to go to class," he said. "I can help you look more when I get home."

"Okay," Drake said. "It's okay. Really, don't even stress. It was just an accident."

"I know. I just..."

"He'll come back when he gets hungry. And like you said, we can try looking for him in a little while."

"Okay," he said uncertainly, but he gave in because he was running late now. "Okay."

When Julio was gone, Ricardo looked up from his breakfast. He noticed that Drake's encouraging smile was gone and that he didn't pick up a doughnut. "You gonna have an episode?"

"I'm okay."

He honestly wasn't mad at Julio — not even a little bit. Instead, his brain reminded him of how incompetent he was at taking care of animals. He thought about Fonzie — about how he'd just left him with his dad that day. What did he think was going to happen? Martin had been pissed at Drake. Why wouldn't he take it out on the next best thing just to hurt his son? The haunting image of what Fonzie had looked like when Drake had found him was still clear as day. His poor, helpless kitten was laying in his own urine and stool. His fur was matted to his skin and all four of his legs were broken. He was hardly breathing when his owner had found him. He couldn't stop thinking about those sad eyes looking up at him. Fonzie had probably been so confused and he had to have felt betrayed by Drake for letting that happen. Who knows how long his pet had been left alone to suffer that way? Drake had been gone all night. Fonzie probably laid there just like that the entire time, scared and alone until he took his final breath. Martin had forced a knife into his son's hand, then he'd made him stab his kitten and slice him open all the way down his side. It was traumatizing to say the least.

Ricardo had gone upstairs to shower. Like expected, Drake had wallowed in his gruesome memories until he'd made himself physically sick. He was in the first floor bathroom, crying and vomiting and hyperventilating. It was insane how vivid his memories from almost three and a half years ago were when he couldn't even remember what he had eaten for lunch the day before.

This is the way Drake's mind worked with depression and anxiety. It started with his feelings of incompetency, then moved to the hurt look on Fonzie's face the day that he was killed, then moved to the horrid things his father had said to him that day (one being that he should kill himself). Next came the violent beating that left him with broken bones. After that was the blowjob he had been forced to give him...his own father. It was sick. He was ashamed of the places that his mouth had been — that his hands had touched. The way his tongue had moved over-

"Huuullggll!" Drake gasped for air in between each round of vomit that came up.

He could still feel Martin's hands all over him, exploring every inch of his body. He could still feel the man forcefully penetrating him. He could still see that stupid fucking grin! They were all suffocating him until he couldn't breathe.

 _"Please, stop drinking, Dad."_

 _"You know why I started drinking again, Drake? Because I looked at you one night and saw just how much of a disappointment you are. You'll never amount to anything in your life. You hear me, your worthless sack of shit? You are a loser and a failure. You're weak and pathetic. You make me sick just looking at you. You're the reason I relapsed."_

 _"I never meant to be this way."_

 _"You should just kill yourself. We'd all be better off without you fucking us all over. You destroy everything you touch. Your relationships, your friendships, your family. You ruin everything."_

 _"I'm not trying to."_

 _"I know. It's an accident. You're an accident. You can't control it because it's who you are and who you'll always be."_

 _"I don't want to be here anymore."_

 _"I don't want you here either."_

"Christ, Drake! What's going on?!" Ricardo exclaimed. He'd heard the boy's panic attack as he'd started down the stairs and had come running. "Hold on." He hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a brown paper bag like he always did for Julio, then he brought it back to Drake. "Here." He got on his knees in front of him. "Take deep breaths." He rested his hand on the boy's shoulder for comfort.

"Don't touch me," Drake just barely managed to sputter.

"Everything's gonna be okay-"

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" Even when the man pulled away, Drake kept screaming this.

"Drake, it's me," he said in a firm, yet calm voice. "It's Ricardo. It's Ricky."

Drake was shaking like all hell. He was bawling his eyes out, crying so much that snot was dripping from both nostrils. "Just don't touch me."

"I won't. You're safe. No one can touch you. I'm not gonna let anyone touch you." He repeated this a couple times until his friend stopped yelling and went back to just hyperventilating. "Listen to me." He opened the brown bag that was still in his hand. "Try this, okay? Just breathe into this. It's okay. Julio does it all the time."

Drake took the bag in his trembling hands and did as he was told.

"That's right. Just breathe. In and out. In...and out. Good. You're doing great. I know it feels like you're gonna die right now, but you're not. It'll all be over soon, okay? I promise. Just keep focusing on your breathing. Awesome. Awesome." He nodded as he watched Drake struggle to suck in air and let it out again. "There you go. You got it."

Drake pulled the bag away to show that his snotty nose was getting in the way. Ricardo grabbed the roll of toilet paper and tore some off.

"You wanna do it?"

There was too much going with Drake for him to comprehend what the man had said, so Ricardo reached out cautiously and wiped off his nose. Drake seemed to be okay with his touch now. Ricky grabbed more of the tissue and wiped off the rest, then he gently touched his friend's arm and lifted it up so that the boy would continue to breathe into the bag.

* * *

Drake was laying in his bed, curled up on his side with his back to the door when Ricky came back in.

"Hey," he said quietly as not to scare the boy.

Drake didn't respond, but it was obvious that he was still awake because he was still weeping and sniffling. Ricardo moved closer and sat down next to him on the bed. He stayed quiet for a while. He thought about rubbing Drake's back, but decided better of it when he remembered what his friend had been screaming about in the bathroom.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked.

"No." It was so quiet that the man hardly heard it. His chest and shoulders and entire torso in general were aching all over and he felt so weak that he couldn't even lift a finger if he wanted to.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

Ricardo sat there silently with his back against the wall until Drake cried himself to sleep and, even after that, he continued to sit there with him to keep him from suffering through nightmares.

* * *

"I can cancel with my calculus group," Julio offered from one of the bar stools in the kitchen.

"You don't have to do that," his brother replied. "He said he'll be fine."

"Who knows what that means with Drake, though?"

"He's an adult. We can't smother him. He hates that."

"I know. I just..." He sighed. "I just feel bad about the cat running away."

"Don't. It wasn't about that," the man said as he packed himself some leftover pizza for tonight's dinner. "I think it had to do with his dad. He kept screaming about not wanting to be touched."

"Shit. What brought that on?"

"I'm not sure. He didn't wanna talk about it."

"Fuck," Julio said. "And he's never had one of these before. I mean, he gets upset and panics or cries or throws up, but not all three at once. And hyperventilating to the point where he had to breathe into a bag — that's never happened to him before."

"Yeah, I think it really scared him — not being able to breathe like that. Probably just another thing that reminded him of his dad," Ricardo said, referring to the time Mr. Parker had attempted to strangle his son to death.

"I feel bad leaving him alone like this. I could text the group and have them meet here instead, but I know Drake's not gonna want a house full of people either."

"Eh, as long as you guys are quiet, he won't notice. I don't think he's getting out of bed today. He was supposed to go see Meelah, but when I asked if he was still going, he said that he wasn't."

"Okay, that's what I'll do," he said as he pulled out his phone.

 **Julio: srry its last min but can we possibly do stdy group my house? My friend isnt well & I dont wnna leave him by himslf**

 **Zahid Calc: cool w me**

"Are you closing tonight?" Julio asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, be careful in all this rain. I passed by two wrecks on my way home from school."

 **Ansley Calc: thats fine**

"You wanna just order a couple pizzas for dinner? That way, you can make it up to your friends for the last minute changes," Ricardo suggested.

 **Hannah Calc/Comp: sounds good.**

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. I don't wanna have to cook dinner afterwards anyway."

"You need some cash?" his older brother asked.

 **Peter Calc: address?**

"I got some," Julio said absently as he responded to his text.

"Alright. I gotta head out."

"Alright, bro." The boy slipped his phone back into his pocket. "I'm gonna go see if Macaulay's around somewhere. Maybe she can make Drake feel better if she comes home."

"Sounds good." Ricardo picked up his keys, then double-checked to make sure that everything he needed was in his hands. "Call me if you need me."

Julio nodded, then followed him outside. They went their separate ways: Ricardo to his car and Julio to the tree line, clicking his tongue as he went.

* * *

Julio tapped softly on Drake's door before entering. His study group was over and everyone had left. Like Ricardo had expected, the boy never came downstairs. He was still curled up in his comforter, but he no longer sounded like he was crying.

"Hey," Julio said cautiously as he approached him. "You hungry? I ordered pizza." This was all that he could offer because he hadn't been able to find Macaulay. Julio rolled a computer chair over to the other side of the bed so that he wasn't talking to his friend's back. "I even got one with pineapple because I know it's your favorite."

Drake didn't have the energy to eat or talk or move, but he managed a quiet, "Thanks."

Seeing that he didn't make a grab for it, Julio knew that he wasn't hungry. Panic attacks always made him lose his appetite, too. He set the plate on the nightstand, then looked at Drake. His eyes were open, but they were empty and he stared absently past Julio at the wall in front of him.

"Can I get you anything?"

Drake tried to say no, but his voice didn't come out. Julio understood anyway.

"I hate that you had to go through that. Anxiety sucks," he said, only to receive no response. "I know you probably don't wanna talk about it, but I just wanna remind you that I'm here. No judgments or anything, and if it started because of me letting the cat out, you can tell me. You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings."

Still nothing.

"It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it, though. I just wanna make sure you know that you don't have to go through this alone."

After sitting in silence for a good two minutes, Julio stood. He knew that Drake wanted to be alone so that he could wallow in his thoughts, but he wouldn't let him. All the lights were already off, but the sunshine came through the curtains in angelic rays. Drake preferred darkness, so Julio scooted onto the other side of the bed and rested his head on the pillow. He picked up the top of the comforter and stretched it all the way over both of their heads.

Within seconds, Drake started to feel calmer, although only slightly. Down here, under the covers, he couldn't see the rest of the world, so he didn't have to think about it. Right now, it was just himself and Julio. Usually, having something over your head made it hard to breathe. This was still true, but in a different way. Drake had to focus on taking in oxygen, then he'd let it out, feeling the hot air hit his face. Overtime, it required much more work, but it took his attention away from the rest of life's stresses.

"My study group was here earlier," Julio said.

They'd rested so long in silence that Drake had almost forgotten about him being beside him.

"Somehow we started talking about sharks for a sec." He knew that thinking about these creatures always made Drake feel better although he wasn't sure why. He assumed that maybe it was a mixture of the fact that 1). they lived underwater, which Drake envied, and 2). they were misunderstood — probably how he felt about himself. Julio continued. "Zahid started telling us about this fish — I don't remember the name — and it goes inside of a shark's mouth and cleans its teeth. And the shark lets it. It keeps its jaws wide open and lets the fish do its thing, and then that's that. The shark doesn't eat it. It's like they have some sort of understanding or agreement."

With this new and interesting information, Drake rolled onto his back. To Julio, this meant that he was starting to open up.

"Did you already know about that?" the boy asked.

"No."

"Me neither. It sounds unbelievable, right? It's real, though. He showed us a video about it. Wanna see?"

Drake nodded, so Julio pulled his phone out of his pocket. He typed something into YouTube, then held the phone up so that both he and his friend could see.

One video turned into twelve and, almost an hour and a half later, Julio's phone alerted him that his battery was beginning to run low. Also, his arms were pretty fucking tired from holding up the phone for so long. After this, Julio asked if Drake felt up to going outside. Ricardo had a balcony hanging off of his bedroom and it had a roof over it. That way, they would be protected from the rain, but they could sit and watch it storm, which he knew Drake liked to do. The boy agreed, so Julio put his cell phone on the charger, went downstairs to grab his friend's cigarettes and a couple beers, then met Drake on the balcony.

He took a seat in one of the patio chairs, then passed his friend a bottle. "I got you one," he said.

Drake thanked him, but it was hard to hear over the beating rain. They sat in another silence for a while as they admired the comforting sounds from the storm. Drake, who had laid in bed all day and was dying of thirst, finished his beer rather quickly, which seemed to open him up a little.

"Thanks for doing all this," he said between puffs from his cigarette. He was chain-smoking, so this was his third one already.

"That's what friends are for. You've been there for me plenty of times after my attacks."

"I didn't know it felt like that," Drake said. "Like, I actually couldn't breathe and I couldn't stop vomiting everywhere."

"I get nauseous a lot with mine, but I've never actually thrown up during one," Julio said.

Drake blew out a cloud of smoke. He felt so much better sitting out here under dark storm clouds and endless rain. He appreciated the time Julio had spent making him feel better, but he felt like he'd done it out of guilt maybe. "It wasn't about you," he said suddenly. "Or Macaulay."

Julio looked over at him for a moment, then straight ahead again because he figured maybe his friend would open up easier if he didn't feel like all eyes were on him.

Drake looked down at his lap with embarrassment. "I just started thinking about old shit again."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"Sometimes it just hits, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that," Julio said. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I don't want you to start thinking about it again and getting upset."

Drake was grateful that his explanation was enough because he didn't want to go into further detail. "Thanks for everything you did. It really helped."

"That's good."

The two sat there and continued to watch the rain fall, chatting lightly in between bouts of silence. Even when they weren't talking, it was okay. They just enjoyed each other's company.

* * *

When Ricardo got home that night — or more correctly, that morning — he quietly pushed open Drake's door to check in on him. When he saw that the boy was sleeping soundly, he headed towards his own room. Before he was inside, he heard a noise behind him. His brother's bedroom door opened and Julio stepped out, looking slumped over and half asleep.

"You just got in?" the boy said.

"Yeah. How was Drake today?"

"Better. After study group, I hung out with him and he got out of bed."

"That's great," said Ricky. "Did he say what had caused it?"

"He didn't wanna talk about it. He just said it had to do with shit from the past. I just left it at that because I didn't want him to get anxious again."

Ricardo nodded. "I'm gonna go to bed."

Julio turned and started walking for the hallway bathroom. Over his shoulder, he told his brother goodnight. The oldest went into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Just as he removed his jacket, he heard a text alert go off. He pulled out his phone.

 **Dee: had fun tonight. See u soon?**

He let go of a sigh, but he began typing back.

 **Ricardo: yeah for sure**

* * *

Drake was awake. He and Julio had already went on their morning jog. Julio had left for school. Ricardo had soon followed, saying he had to work the opening shift, which Drake found strange because he rarely ever scheduled himself to open if he'd closed the night before.

Drake had the house to himself, which was nice. He absolutely enjoyed his best friends' company, but he also needed complete stillness and silence every now and then, too. For a long time, he read from his new library book. He lost track of time and managed to get through a good portion of _Tweak_ , but he had to stop. Despite not being a meth addict himself, he was still triggered at times if something happened that he could relate to or something reminded him of Charlie. He loved the book, though. He just had to read it little by little.

The young man stood, then reached him arms into the air and stretched his back, hearing a few bones pop as he did so. Feeling somewhat anxious, he started craving a smoke, so he slipped on his jacket and opened the front door. The second he did that, he heard a "Meow," and he looked down at his feet. Macaulay ran past him.

"Bruh, what the fuck?" Drake said, scolding his cat for running away as if it could understand human talk and would reply to him.

Just before he could close the door, another cat about the same size as Macaulay bolted past him and joined the girl kitten in the kitchen. Drake followed them in there and saw Macaulay rubbing her body against the bag of kitten food that they kept in the corner of the pantry. The new cat followed suit.

"Ricky's gonna be so pissed..."

Drake let both of them eat, then he carried both cats upstairs and put them in his room so that they couldn't get out. Finally, he went outside to smoke and, as he lit his cigarette, he saw the sun shining through the clouds. It had rained consistently for the past couple of days. It was still supposed to storm more later, but for now, there was a break.

Since now was the best time, he decided to go to the cemetery, which he hadn't had the chance to do yesterday. He grabbed his pack of L&Ms and put them into the pocket of his jacket, then began his walk. It was roughly an hour and a half to a two hour walk because he took the long way. This was because he didn't want to have to pass by the truck stop on his way. It would've taken half the time if he had.

When he arrived, he followed the path to Meelah's gravestone, still familiar despite how infrequent his visits were. He'd prepared himself for this during his walk. This wasn't going to turn out like last time. He wasn't going to let himself get so distraught and upset. If he did, he'd call Gem or Rhinestone or Sawyer — anyone who was off work and had the free time to distract him from his own sadness.

He sat down, putting his jacket between his bottom and the damp ground. He filled her in on what had been going on in his life, apologized a lot, cried a little, then talked about his new kittens, one of which he hadn't told Ricardo about. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, chain-smoking and then putting the butts back into his almost-empty pack to keep Meelah's resting place clean. The sky above him was getting dark despite the time, which meant that he was most likely going to get caught in the rain on his way home. He didn't mind. It was hard to pull himself away from here anytime he finally convinced himself to come.

"Drake?"

The boy turned his head. He hadn't heard anyone approach, so the sudden call of his name sent a wave of panic through him and his heart started beating even faster when he saw who it was: Mr. and Mrs. Harmon, Meelah's mother and step-father. Drake put out his cigarette and, like he had done with the rest, he put it into the pack, then he stood.

"Hi," he said, his anxiety growing. It had been years since they had seen him. He wondered if their love for him had finally dissipated with their distance and if hatred had settled into their hearts.

His question was answered when Mrs. Harmon pulled him into a hug. As her husband took his turn wrapping his arms around Drake, she said, "It's so good to see you. We haven't heard from you in a long time."

"You, too," he said, suddenly shy around these people despite their home having been his second home just a few years ago.

"I was wondering if you were still in the city. It's been so long."

"Yeah, still here."

"You look...you look great," Mr. Harmon said after giving him a once-over. He smiled proudly. He gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder without mentioning drugs and his noticeable abstinence from him.

"Thank you." Drake didn't know what to say and he found it hard to make eye contact with either of them. He knew that he should say something, but he kept freezing up. _Why am I so fucking nervous? Christ, I hate myself._

"Where have you been staying, dear?"

"With a couple friends. Th-they took me in and helped me get clean." Great, he was stuttering now.

"That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks." He gave a small smile, which was forced despite the fact that their comment would've made him feel good if he wasn't so damn anxious. "Um, well, uh, I've gotta get going — to make it home before the rain."

"Did you walk here?" Mr. Harmon asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, hey, we just came to place these flowers and say a quick hello." He held up a bouquet that he had in his hand: sunflowers, Meelah's favorite. "Why don't you stick around a second and we'll take you out to lunch? We'd love to catch up."

Drake didn't want to, but for some reason, he was too scared to say no — probably because he was the reason their daughter was dead. "Okay."

* * *

Drake kept his hands under the table because they were shaking and his head hang low so that his bangs covered his eyes.

"I'm just so glad we ran into you," Mrs. Harmon said.

"Yeah," Drake agreed for lack of something better to say.

"So how long have you been clean, dear?"

"Not long," he admitted. "I mean, I first sobered up almost three years ago, with a few minor slip-ups every now and then. Recently, though, I had a really bad relapse. Like...really bad, but my friends helped me through it."

"That's great. We're so glad you have a good support system behind you."

Mr. Harmon nodded his agreement. When the waitress came over and delivered their food, he thanked her.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked.

"We're fine. Thank you." He gave her a smile, then turned his attention to his plate when she was gone. He reached for some salt, then pepper, then picked up a piece of toast.

Drake wasn't hungry. In fact, his nervousness had made him nauseous, but he felt like it was rude if he didn't eat. He picked up his fork and jabbed at his scrambled eggs with cheese. Waffle House made the best scrambled eggs with cheese. Drake had found out their secret. After a quick Google search a couple years ago, he'd learned that you use a spoon rather than a whisk to stir the eggs. It was amazing how one simple utensil could change everything.

Mr. Harmon was staring at him with adoration as he chewed his toast. "Man, it's so great to see you, son."

With those words, a new feeling washed over Drake, making him warm and less anxious. His eyes got wet, but he kept his tears back. Meelah had the best fucking parents. God, if only his own father had been even half the man Meelah's step-dad was... Things may have turned out so differently. He imagined coming home and being greeted with a hug or a wave or a nice "hello" or even just a smile. Anything was better than the punches and kicks and name-calling and curses and slaps and glares that he had gotten so accustomed to. He tried to picture what it felt like to go home...climb up the porch steps...open the front door...and _not_ instantly become overwhelmed by waves of fear and dread. He was one of the best dads out there and he was only her step-dad. He had no obligations to really love and care for Meelah as his own, much less her lousy junkie boyfriend, but he did. Both he and his wife did despite the fact that their precious, beloved daughter was dead and six feet under the dirt because of him.

 _Fuck, and here come the tears._

"What's the matter, son?"

He wiped them away and sniffled. "I just get these...crying spells sometimes," he said. "My emotions are all out of wack since I got sober."

The couple looked at each other, then Mrs. Harmon reached her hand across the table and put it on top of his.

"I was the same way," she said. "After Meelah passed, I went through a really rough patch."

This didn't make Drake feel any better. This time when he spoke, his voice raised a couple octaves. "I'm sorry."

"No." She leaned closer. "No, dear, it's not your fault. Not at all."

Mr. Harmon nodded his agreement. "We don't blame you even a little bit."

"But I was the once who convinced her to use. I was so desperate to get high and I thought that if I got her to get high with me, then she would be mad at herself and not at me afterwards. I'm so selfish."

"Drake, sweetie..." She gripped his hand now. "Look at me, dear." When he did, she said, "No one blames you. We don't blame you. Meelah wouldn't blame you and you know she wouldn't want you to blame yourself. You know how it works, Drake. If someone offered drugs to you or mentioned them and you relapsed, would you blame them or yourself?" She had a point.

"Myself."

"She wouldn't want you destroying yourself over what happened. You know that she only ever wanted you to be happy."

Drake choked out a quiet sob then. _Christ, I'm crying in the middle of a fucking Waffle House._

"When Janine went through her rough patch," the man started, "we made her an appointment with a doctor and they gave her medicine — Zoloft."

"It really helped," she said.

"Have you ever tried seeking help?" Mr. Harmon asked. "Maybe a therapist or a counselor or something?"

"I have an appointment coming up. My friend made it for me."

"That's great."

Mrs. Harmon nodded. "There's nothing wrong with talking through your feelings and taking medication. It can really help you get back on track and start living your life again."

Drake believed her because she seemed to be doing very well for herself. He was happy for her because she deserved only the best in life.

"You know..." George looked over at his wife before saying, "your mother really misses you."

For the first time since he had seen them back at the graveyard, he lifted his head and met his eyes.

Janine nodded. "She still thinks about you. She talks about you all the time. She never stopped loving you."

"How..." Drake's words got caught in his throat. He sniffled. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, dear. We have dinner with them every Friday. We've all gotten really close because we've both suffered through something similar. We've all experienced the loss of a child."

"She mentions you every time we're there," George said.

Drake hung his head again. "I thought she hated me." He wiped his eyes, but more tears flooded down his cheeks. He couldn't finish his thoughts because he would start bawling loudly if he opened his mouth right now.

"No, not at all." Mr. Harmon stood and scooted into the booth next to the boy. He wrapped his arm around Drake while his wife kept her grasp on his hand. "She could never hate you."

"When I relapsed," Drake started cautiously, "I went back home, but she wasn't there."

"She moved. Money was tight, so they had to sell their place."

"She said she left a forwarding address," Janine said.

"They didn't have one," said Drake. "But they said that another couple had lived there before them — someone other than Mom and Walter."

"The address probably got lost then," she said.

"You should go back home," Mr. Harmon said. "Just for a visit. Just to let her see that you're doing so much better."

"I've made so many mistakes," Drake said, his voice cracking. "I'm so ashamed."

"Oh, sweetie..."

"You never, ever have to feel ashamed around family," George said. "They're the ones who love you unconditionally."

Drake wasn't so sure that this was true. "I was living on the streets for a while. I've done a lot of things for people... I was..." He couldn't get himself to say it, but he didn't need to because they got the gist. "I'm so disgusted with myself for letting it go that far," his voice squeaked. "I don't think I would ever be able to look at her after everything I've done. I've sacrificed everything — my entire life and even everyone else's lives around me — just to get high. I don't know why I did it. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Oh, honey, nothing is wrong with you," Mrs. Harmon said.

Drake choked out more quiet sobs. Luckily, they had picked a corner booth and the nearby tables were unoccupied, so no one else noticed that he was crying just yet.

"I'm just so ashamed of myself," he said. He covered his dripping eyes with his hand as more sobs came out.

George squeezed him tighter and rubbed his bicep soothingly.

Janine gently slid her thumb against the skin on the top of his hand. "Well, you're clean right now. That's all your mother cares about. That's all anyone cares about. We're so, so, so incredibly proud of you."

"You don't have to go home if you don't want to," Mr. Harmon said. "We just wanted you to know that Audrey still misses you and cares about you and thinks about you all the time. We can stop talking about it if it's making you upset."

Drake could feel Janine pull her hand away. She dug inside her purse and pulled out a pen, then a napkin from the dispenser. She wrote something down, then she folded it up.

"Here." She slid it across the table. "You don't have to decide now, but if you start thinking about going to see her, this is her address. Okay, dear?"

"Okay," his voice cracked. He took the paper and put it inside his pocket.

"And I wrote both mine and George's cell phone numbers on the front in case you ever need to call. Anytime you need. Even if it's the middle of the night. We're here for you," she said. "You remember how to get to our house, right?"

Drake nodded. He could never forget those walks to Meelah's house. "Thank you," he said. "You both are so nice to me."

"We love you, son," George said. "We want you to get through this and come out of it even better than before. We'd do anything for you."

"Thank you," he said.

He felt an overwhelming wave of love wash over him. So often, he thought about how much everyone probably hated him (even if they didn't) and how much he hated himself. Ricardo and Julio were great, but now their promises that Drake did deserve love and happiness were validated by two more people who had known him for a long time and who knew a lot of the bad shit he had done.

He wiped away his tears and sniffled, hoping that this episode was coming to a conclusion.

"You alright?" the man asked, looking down at him.

"I'm okay." Drake dried off his cheeks and sniffled again as he pulled out of his embrace. "Thanks."

Mr. Harmon playfully rubbed his hand through Drake's hair to mess it up like a father might do to his son. He gave him a smile.

"Okay." Drake took in a breath and then let it out to calm himself. "Well, I guess that was my meltdown for the day."

The other two laughed softly at his joke, making the corners of his lips turn upwards into a smile. They went back to eating their food, Mr. Harmon staying in his seat next to him for the remainder of their lunch (which consisted of breakfast food). They sat there chatting for hours, talking about anything and everything. The Harmon's told him about Meelah's brother coming home for a visit recently and a promotion Janine had gotten at work and a crazy experience that had happened to them in the drive thru days before. Drake told them about Clementine and what was going on with their relationship, having his first hardcore panic attack yesterday, how kind and supportive Julio and Ricardo were, recently getting a library card and much more. Sometimes, things would get personal, but there were no judgments at that table. Drake felt like he could really talk to them, so he didn't mind telling them about his time on the streets. He just didn't go into much detail about the sex stuff.

When they were finished, they left a big tip as a thanks to the waitress for refilling their coffees and allowing them to stay although they had finished eating long ago. They dropped Drake off at home, but no one was ready to say goodbye.

"Thanks for the ride," Drake said, leaning down so see both adults through the passenger's side window. "Today was really good."

"Now you remember to come give us a visit, okay, dear?"

"And call if you need anything or if you just wanna talk," added Mr. Harmon.

"I will," Drake promised. "Thanks for everything you did."

"Of course, son."

Janine reached her arm out and gave him one last squeeze around the neck while kissing his cheek. "Don't forget to think about what we said. Your mom really misses you."

"I will," he said and he meant it. He stepped back as George put the car in reverse.

Just before they were fully backed out of the driveway, Janine yelled, "And be good! Or else I'll whoop your butt!" She grinned and both her and her husband waved as they started down the street.

Drake went inside and made his way upstairs. He was about to go into his room, but Julio called from down the hall. Drake went over to his door and saw his friend scrolling through his phone as music played.

"What's up?" Drake said. He walked inside and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Nothing. It hasn't been long since I got back. Where'd you go?"

"I went to see Meelah, but then I ran into her parents and they took me out for lunch and we all just talked."

"Hmm," he said. "How'd that go?"

"Really good actually. I mean, at first, I was really anxious and shit, but then it got better." He pulled out the folded-up paper Mrs. Harmon had given to him. "She gave me the address to my mom's house."

Suddenly way more interested in the conversation, Julio put his phone down and sat up straight. "Shit, dude."

Drake stared down at it. All he had to do was open it and he could go home. He could reunite with his mom and his sister and Josh and Walt...Walter, the man who had made him promise to stay away forever.

"You gonna go?"

"I don't know," he said. He put it back into his pocket.

"Well, if you decide to and you want some backup, I got you, fam."

"You're saying fam again?"

"Oh, and I heard your cat meowing in your room. You found her?"

"Yeah, I guess I should let them out for a little while."

"Them?"

Julio stared at him and Drake just stared back. He hadn't meant to say that. _Oops._

"You're gonna be in so much trouble." Despite his serious tone, he was smirking.

" _Or_ -" Drake started, putting extra emphasis on the word, but he was interrupted.

"Nah, nah, nah, don't rope me into this."

The young man left the room, then quickly returned with the new, orange cat in his arms and Macaulay trailing behind him. "But look at her cute, little face," Drake said. He forced the cat into his friend's hands, then he picked up a jealous Macaulay.

Julio's features softened as he pet the cat. "She's very cute," he said. "And soft." He looked up at his best friend, who was watching him with hopeful eyes. Suddenly, he realized that this was a manipulation tactic and he had been close to falling for it. "Still not getting involved with this whole thing." He stood and handed the kitten over, then made his way down the hall.

"You suck." Drake carried his cats down the stairs, then he set them in the floor, locking the front door this time just in case. He went into the living room, where Julio had turned on the PlayStation. "What are you about to do?"

"Play this game I bought."

"What is it?" Drake sat down and his cats were in his lap and climbing up his torso in no time.

" _Detroit: Become Human_."

"That's that one you were talking about made by the creators of _Heavy Rain_?"

"Yeah."

"I love that game."

"I've been waiting for you to get home before I started it. It's already downloaded."

"You have school tomorrow?"

"Nope, which means I'm probably not stopping until I finish. Hope you're not sleepy."

Drake liked times like this. The last time they had binged their way through a game was when Julio had played _Life Is Strange_. They'd stayed up all night eating junk food and drinking beers, but spaced out because neither had been looking to get drunk. Julio usually played the kinds of video games where the player has to make choices that affect whether characters live or die or something, so Drake just watched and offered up his input.

"Bruh, get your cat."

Drake grabbed Macaulay off of Julio's shoulders, her claws digging into his shirt until she was forced to let go. "You really think Ricky will be mad about this other cat?"

"I don't know. You get away with a lot more shit that I can." After a moment, he said, "Probably because you fucked him."

"Fuck off."

"Shit, he'd probably buy you a car if you asked him."

"You think?"

"Maybe. You'd probably have to fuck him a couple more times, though."

"I'm not _totally_ above that," he said, pretending to consider it.

Julio shook his head with a grin as he looked down at his controller. "Christ, Drake."

* * *

"Well, shit, I thought it would give me a choice about whether or not I wanted to rat the other android out," Julio said. "Now I feel bad. Connor's rude."

"I like Connor, though," Drake said, "And Hank."

"Really?"

"Yeah, like, he's an asshole, but I don't know. He's funny."

"Connor's out here arresting his own kind. These androids just wanna be treated like people and not be slaves."

"He's programmed to do that, though."

"I guess. I just want him to be a deviant."

In _Detroit: Become Human_ , you play three different characters, who are all androids (or robots). The androids are bought and sold to basically do whatever humans want, but some of them begin to break away from their programming and make their own choices (or more correctly, the player's choices). Connor is working with the police to capture androids who have developed a mind of their own. These "vigilantes" are known as deviants. Another character named Kara is basically a maid and nanny. The last character, Julio's favorite, is a caregiver named Marcus, whose disabled "master" is actually rather kind.

The next scene began by showing a close-up of the female android as she woke up a man sitting on a couch.

"It's Kara again. Great, this douchebag is probably gonna make me do chores again. Just what I was hoping for when I started playing this game."

"I think it's pretty cool," Drake said. "It makes it feel more real and you get to explore." After a pause, he added, "I could do without these sex noises that guy makes when he inhales these drugs, though. Christ."

Julio laughed with agreement. "Why does it sound like that?! When I was cleaning the downstairs earlier, I thought he was just casually jerking off in the living room. Like, bruh, your daughter's _right there_."

"Nah, instead, he's just casually doing drugs in front of her."

"Well, fuck, they're gonna make me serve this bastard dinner. I'm not pouring him water. I'm just giving Alice water. He can fucking choke and die."

Pretty soon, the father on screen started ranting and yelling about whatever the fuck, then he stood suddenly, tossed the table to the side and smacked his young daughter's cheek.

"Fucking hell," Drake said quietly.

"This guy's such a prick," Julio said.

Alice, who looked to be about nine or so, ran upstairs while the dad Todd started screaming again after ordering Kara not to move.

"Fuck him. I'm going upstairs."

"I feel like...are you sure, though?"

"I'm just supposed to do nothing?"

"I mean, maybe if you listen to him, he'll calm down, right?"

" _Is_ that how that usually works?"

Drake thought back to times when his dad would start raging. No matter what he did, he always got a beating in the end, even if he did try his best to do everything that was asked of him. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it could've been, but it still fucking hurt. He was way too invested in this game right now.

Before he could say more, they both heard a noise and turned back to the screen. Todd was removing his belt.

Drake's forehead creased. "Oh, what the fuck?"

"I'm going upstairs." Julio pushed on the joystick.

It took a moment for his character to break through her programming and, by the time she was finished, Todd shoved her out of his way and stomped upstairs.

Despite the fact that it was just a game, Drake was anxious as fuck. He was glad that he wasn't playing because he froze in situations such as this one. It took a lot of willpower for him to keep himself in the present when all his brain wanted to do was relive the past. He considered leaving the room, but he didn't want to make Julio feel some type of way. However, it was too late for that.

"Damn, why is she so fucking slow?" Julio said.

Kara made her way up the steps and screaming could be heard coming from the daughter's room at the end of the hall. Julio had already made a mistake by waiting too long to go upstairs, so he wanted to make sure he didn't make any other choices that would trigger Drake. He could go into the father's room and grab the gun he had found earlier, but he made a quick decision against it due to what had happened in his friend's past. Hopefully, this choice wouldn't end in any character deaths. Well, except Todd's. Fuck Todd. Kara went straight to Alice's room and a lengthy fight broke out between her and Todd, with Julio having to successfully press a bunch of buttons for the quick time events. After a few minutes, both Kara and Alice escaped.

"Goddamn, that was crazy." Julio finally relaxed his muscles. "I was about to be pissed if I killed Kara."

"Quantic Dreams doesn't play when they make games. I thought something else was about to happen when he took off his belt."

"Whoo," Julio sighed. "Well, Kara's a deviant now, so that's one." After a moment, he said, "I'm not trying to make a big thing about it, but are you cool?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"I probably should've read the parent's guide, I guess. Ricardo usually does that shit. I forget."

"Nah, it's fine. It was intense, but...it's a game, so..." Drake started petting Macaulay's tiny head when she nudged him. "At least it's you playing and not me. I probably would've gotten them both killed." He picked up his kittens and set them down on the couch. "Lemme smoke, though, before you start the next chapter."

"I've gotta go to the bathroom anyway," Julio said. "Watch your cats. They're following you."

* * *

Ricardo clenched his teeth as he stepped inside the house. His muscles were tense while he pushed the door shut, slowly...slowly... _Okay._ He eased his wrist back to normal position, gradually turning the knob back to its original way. The man winced when it let go of a click, but other than that, he was in the clear. Now he began to tip-toe across the floor, but stopped dead in his track upon passing the living room, where Julio and Drake sat, staring with confusion and curiosity in his direction.

"Why are you being so sneaky?" Drake asked.

"I was trying to be quiet," was his response. "I thought you two would be asleep."

"And you're late, young man," Julio scolded with his hand on his hip as he pretended to be his brother's parent. "It's almost four in the morning. I thought you got off work at midnight."

"I worked late," he said defensively despite his brother's playful demeanor.

"You're back on those drugs, aren't you? I knew it was too good to be true." He put his hand on the back of his forehead with exaggeration like women did in those fifties and sixties films that Ricardo watched.

Drake continued to study the oldest, who rolled his eyes as Julio fake-fainted. That's when it came to him. "You were getting laid."

Julio, now interested for completely different reasons, dropped his act immediately. "My brother is finally getting some? And you weren't gonna tell us?! Come on," he motioned for him to sit down, but Ricky didn't. "Deets! Is she hot?" was Julio's first question.

Drake elbowed him, then asked, "What's her name?"

"Dee," Ricardo said. "And that's all I'm telling you." He turned and started upstairs, ignoring his brother calling after him.

After he was gone, Julio said, "Dee? That's the girl from _It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia_. I bet he's totally making her up."

"You're an asshole. You know that?"

Julio smirked as he pressed play on his video game. "Yeah. I learn from the best." He nudged his friend, which frightened the new orange kitten, who lifted her head off of Drake's lap.

The young man rubbed her with his thumb and pointer finger softly so that she would go back to sleep. "He didn't say anything about the cat."

"He was so flustered about being caught that he probably didn't see her," said Julio.

Just then, Drake received a text, which lit up the entire dark living room. He leaned forwards and picked his phone up off of the table.

 **Ricardo: and why the fuck are there 2 cats now?**

* * *

Ricardo bounced cheerfully down the stairs and into the kitchen, which definitely confirmed for Drake that he had gotten laid the night before. He greeted Drake with a smile, then poured himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a banana. Ricky turned back to his friend as he leaned against the counter and noticed him spinning a folded napkin on the island top.

"Did you and Julio go for a run today?"

"Yeah. Going to work?" Drake asked when he noticed the man dressed nicely.

"Gonna grab brunch with Dee."

"Brunch, huh?" He smiled, but still stared absently at the napkin at the same time.

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

"Don't make fun of me. You know when it comes to dating that you do more fluffy shit than anybody. Clem had you whipped."

"Yeah, you're right," he surrendered. He was curious to know why Ricardo had kept his relationship from everyone, but he didn't confront him about it. "How long have you and Dee been going out?"

"Literally, just a few days. We just really hit it off, though, so we've been spending a lot of time together."

"Am I gonna get to meet her any time soon?"

"Maybe." To change the subject, he nodded towards the napkin. "What's that?"

"I ran into Meelah's parents yesterday. They gave me Mom's address."

"Oh, shit, well, where do they live?" He now wore a serious look on his face.

"I haven't opened it yet," Drake replied. "I don't think I'm gonna."

"Why not?"

Drake chuckled as if the answer was obvious. "Because I'm a fucking mess," he said. "I can hardly stay sober and I don't wanna bring all my chaos back into her life. Plus, what if Mindy still lives there with the baby? I've got a fucking kid who I haven't even bothered to take care of. How shitty is that? And I'm just supposed to show up out of the blue as if I didn't put them through hell...without even being confident that I won't do it again? I mean, just weeks ago, I was living on the streets, pimping my ass out for a few bucks. Do I really wanna bring that shit home to my mom?" After saying these reasons out loud, Drake made up his mind. He scooted off of the bar stool and tossed the napkin into the trash can, then sat back down, his heart beating fast despite the calm look on his face. "And besides, Walter told me not to come back, so..."

"Don't you think he regrets it?" Ricardo asked, watching Drake, who continued to look down at his lap. "I mean, that was years ago and he was angry. You know people say shit they don't really mean when they're pissed."

"Well, it's better to assume he meant it than to risk thinking he didn't and show up and wreak havoc on their lives."

Ricardo grabbed the napkin out of the trash can. "Look, I'm gonna hold onto this, okay?"

"I really don't want you to."

"Because you know I'm right," the man said. "Don't stress about making the decision. A time will come when it just feels right and you'll know. It might not be anytime soon — or ever — but if it happens, I'll have this." He held up the napkin.

"Does Dee know you're this annoying?" Drake asked.

"Not yet. I keep that a secret until the tenth date."

"And how many dates have you two been on?"

"Well, we've hung out almost every day since we met, so this will be the fifth, I guess."

"Shit. You move fast."

"Well, I'm getting old. I'm thirty."

"Yeah, that's true."

Ricardo scoffed at him for not disagreeing. "You're a prick."

Drake smiled and shrugged innocently as Ricardo tossed his banana peel away and put his half-empty coffee mug into the sink.

"Alright, I've gotta go. Oh and," he looked at Drake, "don't let anymore stray cats in. You're turning into a cat lady."

The young man nodded. "Well, Agent Jack Bauer appreciates you letting me keep her."

"Agent Jack Bauer?"

"It's a _Sunny_ thing. I mean, it's a _24_ reference, but also a _Sunny_ thing." He decided he could explain it better by saying, "Because Dennis got this junkyard cat when they were pretending to be cops-"

Ricardo stopped him by holding up his hand. "I don't even wanna know." He checked to make sure he had his keys. He was slightly concerned because he knew both he and Julio would be gone for most of the day. "Call me if you need me?"

"I will." Drake gave him a small, reassuring smile, then the man was on his way.

* * *

"So this is your room?" Sawyer said as he looked around.

Drake pulled his legs up to his chest in an unconsciously standoff-ish manner. Besides Clem and the one-night stands who came before her, the only other person (not currently living here) who had been in his room before was Gemini. It wasn't really a big deal. It was just kind of new because he didn't have any other friends.

Drake's room wasn't messy; it wasn't entirely clean either. It was just tidier than one would expect from a young man his age. There were some posters hanging up. One was from a depression-centered indie game called _The Static Speaks My Name_ , where the player must kill himself at the end. This poster was black and white and read, " _Today will be a better day_ ," which was the first thing you see in the game because it was on the ceiling directly above the player's bed. Drake's was there, too. Another poster was the ending scene of Fight Club (painted), where the guy and the girl watch out the window as all the other tall buildings around them explode and crumple to the ground. Next was another black and white poster, also from an indie game (this one called _I Woke Up Next To You Again_ ). This was a choice game about addiction, except the addiction (Charlie, in Drake's case) was a person laying next to you in bed and holding a conversation with you after a seemingly one-night stand. This poster of an empty bed from the game had one of its many possible endings on it: I never saw him again. Drake also had a black and white bandanna hanging on his wall, which he had gotten after purchasing Cage The Elephant's Tell Me I'm Pretty deluxe set. There was a clown petting a deer, surrounded by confetti. The words on it read, " _Everything's fine_." Basically, some of the posters in his room served to show that he was in denial, which he found funny and joked about any time someone commented on them.

He had other posters that were movie or music related: The Beatles, _Trainspotting_ , Nirvana, _Rent_ , Panic! At The Disco, _A Clockwork Orange_ , etcetera. He had a television with a DVD player and tons of his favorite films. There was no computer or laptop on his desk, but it had been there since he'd moved in and he'd never bothered to get rid of it. His desk had a few random knick-knacks scattered about that old, meth-addicted Rhinestone would've had a ball organizing. There was a rack in one corner of the room that held both an electric and an acoustic guitar.

"It's nice," Sawyer said finally.

For lack of a better response, Drake replied with, "Thanks."

Sawyer went through his DVDs, then his CDs before sitting on the swiveling desk chair. "We have such a similar taste." His eyes moved to the desk and he picked up the Nic Sheff book he saw there. "This what you're reading now?"

"Yeah."

"Any good?"

"It's really good," Drake said. "I think I read a hundred pages before you got here. I'm almost finished with it."

"Maybe I'll have to check this one out."

The young man stayed quiet. He felt so awkward and he hated himself for that. Sawyer was new, which meant that he had no obligations and could stop being Drake's friend at any time. Even still, Drake couldn't stop being so awkward.

Somehow, Sawyer picked up on this. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I probably shouldn't be going through your shit." He put the book down.

"No, it's fine. I just...I don't really know..." Drake sighed. "I don't really hang out with a lot of friends because I don't know what two guys are supposed to do together if they're not getting high."

"Well, what do you and Gem do together?"

"Lately? We get drunk."

"And before lately?"

"I don't know. I guess we just talk or watch movies or something."

"Well, we could just talk. I could tell you all about my job interview I had yesterday." He eyed the guitars in the corner of the room. "Or you can play something on your guitar. What about that song you walked out during at Flux the other night? I liked that one a lot. Or maybe another one? I'd love to hear you play."

"Really?" When Sawyer nodded, he said, "I'm kinda outta practice." But he picked up his acoustic anyway. "It's been a while since I've really played. I think it had been years until I picked one up last week to practice for the gig." After he got himself situated, he said, "What do you want me to play?"

"What about one you practiced that you didn't get the chance to play the other night?"

"Okay..." After a moment, he said, "Okay, I got one." He strummed the guitar to make sure that it was in tune, twisted one of the knobs, then tried again. Confirming that it was ready, he started strumming. Moments later, his soft voice came out.

 ** _She's in my head again_**  
 ** _She knows where I have been_**  
 ** _I'm going down that road again_**

 ** _She's in my bed again_**  
 ** _She marks her fingerprints in my skin_**  
 ** _I breathe her perfume in_**  
 ** _And it burns like heroin_**

 ** _Now she's in me_**  
 ** _And I can't let her go_**

 ** _And my bones are caving in_**  
 ** _And she stole my faith again_**  
 ** _And I wish you well_**  
 ** _Oh, for the night_**  
 ** _'Til you come again_**

 ** _She's in my veins again_**  
 ** _But she knows that I'll bleed her out before I wake_**  
 ** _Exhale her oxygen_**  
 ** _She burns like heroin_**

 ** _Now she's in me_**  
 ** _And I can't let her go_**

 ** _And my bones are caving in_**  
 ** _Oh, she stole my faith again_**  
 ** _And I wish you well_**  
 ** _Oh, for the night_**

 ** _She's in my life again_**  
 ** _But she won't ever win_**  
 ** _And I wish you well_**  
 ** _For the night_**  
 ** _For the night_**

 ** _My bones are caving in_**  
 ** _Oh, she stole my faith again_**  
 ** _I wish you well_**  
 ** _For the night_**  
 ** _For the night_**

"Hot fucking damn!" Sawyer exclaimed, clapping his hands. "That was fucking amazing!"

Drake couldn't control the wide grin that curled up on his face. He humbly hid his eyes behind his bangs and tilted his head downwards. "Thanks."

"Did you write that or...?"

"I wish. It's by Badflower."

"When you sing it, you're singing about Triple C's or, like, an ex?"

"Triple C's. I feel like everything I ever sing is about them."

"That's what makes it so good, though. You sing with your heart," Sawyer said. "Play another."

"Okay." Drake felt much more at ease now that they had their icebreaker. He decided on another song, then began strumming the chords.

* * *

"I brought Chicken Run," Ricardo announced as he stepped into the house.

Julio, who had pulled into the driveway seconds after his brother, was right behind him, carrying a two-liter of Coke. They both set their things on the island as Drake entered the kitchen, his hair wet from a recent shower.

"What'd you get?"

"Twenty fingers: half tossed hot, half lemon pepper. You showered again?" he noticed.

"Sawyer and I walked a trail at High Falls. It was longer than either of us remembered."

"He got you out of the house. I like him."

"It's cool if he stays for dinner?"

"Yeah, of course."

Despite the fact that they had gotten a two-liter Coke with their meal, each boy grabbed a beer instead. Drake said he'd be right back as he picked up Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer. He carried them upstairs and into his room. Sawyer was exiting the bathroom then. He was wearing one of Drake's outfits and had his own wrapped in a damp towel.

"Thanks for letting me borrow these."

Drake nodded. "Laundry room's downstairs. We can wash your clothes and have dinner. Ricky got Chicken Run."

"Great! I'm starving!"

They went downstairs. Drake got his clothes started, then they made their plates and joined the other two boys in the living room, where Ricardo was inserting a DVD into the PS4.

"What'd you get?" Drake asked.

" _Blindspotting_. Something you and Julio won't argue over."

"Mm!" Sawyer started excitedly as he swallowed down his bite of chicken. "I've heard a lot of good things about this movie. I've been wanting to see it."

"Same here. Finally, for the first time in forever, it's something everyone agrees on. Julio and Drake are so picky."

"I am not!" Julio protested.

"Can you pass me that controller?" Ricardo asked.

Sawyer wiped his hands together to get off the fry salt and grease, then he picked up the PlayStation controller and gave it to the man, who then started up the movie.

* * *

Drake yawned, then stretched his legs before finally opening his eyes. It was a little after four. Pretty soon, his alarm would go off and he'd have to get up for his morning jog. He would've closed his eyes and savored every bit of sleep he could get, but his bladder was about to explode. Again, he stretched, then forced himself out of bed. He opened his bedroom door after seeing that his kittens were both still napping together on his comforter. He made his way to the bathroom, relieved himself, washed his hands, then brushed his teeth. Drake headed downstairs to get his sweatpants out of the dryer, but upon stepping foot in the kitchen, he noticed an unfamiliar face standing in front of the coffee pot.

"Um..." His eyebrows scrunched with confusion. "Hello?"

The man turned. He was dark-skinned and muscular with cute dimples that became even more prominent when he smiled. "Hi," he greeted kindly. "You must be Drake."

He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. Maybe doing so would clear up what the fuck was going on. It wasn't incredibly strange for there to be a stranger in the kitchen at this time of morning. It _was_ , however, strange that it was a _guy_. Usually, Drake would run into hungover and half-dressed girls, so this one took him by surprise.

"Yeah..."

"It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot." He noticed that the boy was still confused. He walked over to him and held out his hand. "I'm Dee."

Drake shook it absently, his mind spinning. "Dee?"

He was thrown for a loop. This was not at all who he was expecting. Ricardo's secret significant other was...a dude? Why hadn't he said anything?

"Mm-hmm. That's what I go by. It's short for Darrel."

"Oh..." was all Drake could think of to say.

He was still shaking his hand until Ricardo entered the kitchen. This made Dee smile all over again.

"Hey, babe. I started the coffee for you."

"Thanks. You have time for a cup before work?" the man asked.

"No, I gotta hit the road. I'll text you later, though."

When the two leaned in and connected their lips, Drake swore he was dreaming. Dee stepped outside and Ricardo waited by the door as he got into his car.

"Be safe," the man said and Dee waved back. Ricky closed the door, then turned back to Drake, who hadn't moved a single step. He casually made his way over to the coffee pot, which was still running. He went ahead and pulled out a mug from the cabinet and set it onto the counter.

Finally, Drake found his words. "What the fuck, Ricky?" He didn't say it with anger — just confusion.

The man sighed, then motioned for him to sit down, which Drake did.

"So _he_ 's Dee?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Well...I mean...okay... I don't..." Drake didn't know what to say. "I mean, okay. So you're...?"

"I'm into guys," he admitted.

"Okay..." His gears were spinning and his mind was all over the place. "Okay..." He rubbed his eyes some more as he thought. "So, like...why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried," the man answered. "It just never felt right and I guess I was — I don't know — embarrassed or something."

"No, don't be embarrassed. I mean, I'm sorry. My reaction is total shit. I'm just half-asleep and it took me by surprise, but it's totally great. He seemed super nice. I just was confused is all. Like, you let me believe he was a she, but, I mean, shit, I guess I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"I mean, it makes sense that you did. I haven't dated much, but when I have, it's always been women."

"So...so this is what you wanted to talk about when Clem came over?"

"Yeah, I was gonna tell you then, but..."

"Shit, I'm sorry." His thoughts were still racing, so all he could say was another, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I mean, you asked me about it a couple times after, but it just didn't feel right anymore. I guess I've just been nervous and I knew I'd never really have the balls to tell you, so that's why I asked him to stay last night. I guess that was kinda messy and sudden-"

"No, it's totally fine. I mean, you know, I get that it's hard to say some things. You know I love you and I totally support you a hundred percent."

This brought a smile onto Ricardo's face. "Thanks."

Drake noticed that his eyes were glazed over and his fingers shook ever so slightly. "Don't." He said. He stood and walked around to the other side of the island, then he wrapped his arms around his best friend, who broke down at this. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

"I don't know. I guess I wasn't expecting you to be so okay with it."

"Of course I am. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn't. I'm glad you told me."

"I've just been hiding it for so long. Like, I knew I was gay, but I didn't wanna believe it, so I still went with women. And then, you know, we played Never Have I Ever at the cabin and you talked about your sexual fantasies about other guys and I started to feel — I don't know — like...finally, someone else understands me. At that point, I'd never had sex with another man before and I was super trashed, so I wanted to experiment with someone I trusted with my life. At the time, in that state of mind, it seemed like such a brilliant idea, but then things got all messed up. I didn't mean to treat you like shit. I know you got all self-conscious about everything. I should've said something sooner."

"It's okay," Drake assured. "I had no idea what you were dealing with."

"After that, I mean, I knew I couldn't keep denying it, but I thought if I told you, you'd think it's because I felt some type of way about you when, really, I used you, which I know is horrible and I felt so bad afterwards because I knew that you were really confused about your own sexuality at the time." Ricardo sniffled when he felt his friend rubbing his back. "I went out alone one night to get drunk because I was upset and confused. That's when I met Dee and we somehow just immediately hit it off. He's been so patient with me about everything. That's why I haven't been home much lately. It was hard to face you guys knowing that I was lying to you everyday."

"I'm sorry you felt like you had to keep all that inside of you, but I'm really glad you told me now. I swear nothing's gonna change between us, okay?"

Ricardo nodded against Drake's shoulder. "Yeah."

"And I think it's totally great that you and Dee found each other. He seems incredibly nice," he said. "And he's got those cute dimples," he added.

Ricky chuckled. "Yeah, he sure does." He pulled away and wiped at his eyes.

"You've literally saved my life countless times and I think the world of you," Drake said. "You're the best person I know. You deserve to be happy and you don't need to hide who you are."

"Thanks," he said. "If anyone was gonna understand, I knew it'd be you. Now I just have to figure out how to tell Julio."

"Just sit him down and tell him," Drake suggested. "He's your brother and he loves you more than anyone. He'll understand. I know he will."

"I don't know."

"Well, I do," Drake said. "And if you want, I can be there when you tell him. Unless you'd rather do it alone."

Ricardo took in a breath, then let it out, calming himself even more. "I should probably tell him alone. It's gonna be a whole other thing when he finds out I told you before him."

"He's not like that," the boy said. "So did you plan when you'd tell him?"

"Honestly, I kinda thought you'd both come downstairs at the same time and see Dee and I could just knock out two birds with one stone, so...no."

"Well, whenever you decide to do it, you can just tell me and I'll go fuck off somewhere," Drake said.

"You're still going for a run?"

"I was, unless you need me for something."

"No, I just thought that maybe I'd tell Julio after you two got back. He'd be awake and clear-headed by then."

"Okay." Drake nodded, then gave him a small smile. "I'm really proud of you," he said. "I know it's hard when it was such a huge secret. When everyone found out about my dad, it was pretty rough at first, but then I just started to feel more...free. Like I could finally breathe, you know?"

"I do feel better now that I've told someone."

"And if there's ever anything else, you can tell me. You can always tell me anything. Shit, you know everything about me. Sometimes, I think you know me more than I know myself. You've literally always been there and always let me talk or vent or complain or cry or whatever. I'm always willing to stop what I'm doing and do the same for you." He hopped up onto the island.

"Thanks," the man said, seeing that the coffee was ready. He wiped his eyes, then started to make himself a cup.

"All this time, I thought the reason you weren't going out was because, between work and dealing with my shit, you were too busy. This makes sense, though. I should've paid more attention."

Ricardo poured in cream and sugar, then stirred. "You couldn't have known. There's no way. Even I spent a good portion of my life lying to myself about it."

"So what happened to that hot doctor who gave you her phone number?"

"I called off the date. I've never done that before. Kinda felt like a jerk."

"So what you're saying is you don't care if I swoop in?"

The older one smirked as he took a sip of his hot drink. "I mean..." He shrugged. "Is that not weird? Usually, people just start with dinner, maybe a movie. Just from reading your charts, she pretty much knows your entire life story."

"I mean, might as well jump straight into the chaos if you're gonna be with me, right?"

Another sip. On a more serious note, Ricky said, "Aren't you and Clem working things out, though?"

"I haven't talked to her since the other day. I'm not really trying to get my hopes up. Like, honestly, if someone did that to you, would you take him back?" Drake looked down at his hands. "Anyway, I don't really like to talk about it."

After looking at the clock, Ricardo said, "Why don't you go wake Julio? I think he likes to go before kids start walking to the bus stop."

Drake let out a laugh. "Yeah, because that one girl literally hardcore fucked him with her eyes as we passed and her boyfriend got pissed and started yelling at us. Like, Christ, chill out. It's way too early for that. Kids are just so fucking awake so early. I don't get that. I feel like I'm still half asleep during the jog sometimes." Drake slid off the counter, but before he went upstairs, he said, "Also, since you're already up, you're doing breakfast, right?"

"Um, no."

"Great, so I was thinking waffles?"

"Mm, that's not too hard. I can actually do that."

"With blueberries?"

"Now you're pushing it."

"Literally, just sprinkle them on," Drake argued.

"I was kinda leaning towards chocolate chips, though."

"Ugh," Drake groaned. "Fine, I'll eat it, but I'm not gonna be happy about it."

Ricardo chuckled as the boy headed upstairs to wake up his friend and running partner.

* * *

Drake and Julio had finished their jog and Drake had separated from him in the front yard so that Ricardo could talk to him one-on-one. Although it wasn't intentional, the young man found himself at Clementine's doorstep. He rang the doorbell, then waited. What was he going to say? Why was he here? He didn't know either of these things. He had to ring the bell a second time and wait even longer before the door finally opened.

"Drake?" Dahlia said. "What are you doing here? It's not even seven yet."

"I've just been thinking about you," he said. "How's your...?" He gestured towards his own eye.

"It's better," she said. "Thanks." For a moment, they both stood in silence, but she broke it with, "So what did you want?"

What _did_ he want? He didn't know. "I just wanted to see you," he said. "I miss you."

"Well, Drake, I'm sleeping," she said.

The longer he stood there, the crazier he felt. Why the fuck was he standing on his ex's doorstep at seven in the fucking morning again? He apologized, then started to turn and make his way down the steps and towards the sidewalk, but she reached out and grabbed his hand to stop him. He turned his head towards her.

Neither one said anything. He followed her inside and shut the front door behind himself. Clementine led him to her bedroom and they laid down. She snuggled into her comforter, then she pulled him closer so that he was spooning her. He wrapped his arm across her and held her hand, then kissed the back of her hair. She fell asleep like that in no time while he laid there awake, just resting his eyes and feeling comfort in her presence.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I don't have much to say. Just gonna keep this one short because it's late af and I'm tired. Em, thanks for taking the time to drop a review on my last chapter. That's totally cool. I'm glad you like the songs. To all my readers, if I ever include a song or movie or show or game that anyone's into, lemme know so we can talk about it. I would totally appreciate any and all feedback, whether good or bad. If you have any ideas, even if their just minor, irrelevant conversations you wanna see the characters have, lemme know and I'll see if I can fit it. Okay, so please review and have a good day/night.**


	7. The Accident

"Holy shit! You know what?!" Rhinestone screeched into Drake's ear.

They had been talking for so long — or more correctly, _Rhinestone_ had been talking for so long — that Drake's arm was aching from having to hold the phone up to his ear. They were well over an hour. It started with Rhinestone's update on the gonorrhea story — somehow Zachary's tests came back clean, meaning Rhinestone hadn't gotten it from him but also never let anyone else do anal on him — then the boy talked about literally everything else: work, home life, movies and tv, sobriety from alcohol, his relationship, movies and tv again, etcetera.

"What?" Drake responded.

"You were gone on your relapse during Christmas," he said, "which means you never got to hear my story."

"What story?" he asked as he lifted Macaulay up and set her down on top of his stomach.

"Oh my God. Okay, so it's Christmas, right? And I have to work that morning, so I go in at five, and I'm like, 'Okay, I have to work Christmas. It'll be alright.' So when I get there, Kent sees this guy outside laying down by the Walgreens and he tells me to go check on him. So I go over there and I'm like, 'Sir? Are you okay?' He doesn't answer. I leaned in and poked him. Still nothing, but I can see him better now that I'm closer to him. He's laying there with his mouth and eyes open and his arms kinda curled up and he's fucking dead!"

"What?"

"Yeah!"

"Bullshit." Despite saying this, Drake believed him. He knew that Rhinestone was a lot of things, but he wasn't a liar — not while he was sober anyway and not about things like this.

"I started running around and screaming for help, you know, because I didn't have my phone on me. I'm like, 'Help! Call the police! There's a dead body over here!' I'm freaking the fuck out because I've never just walked up on a dead body before. And I touched him, too. Can you imagine? That's like just walking down the street and coming across a dead body. He wasn't homeless or anything, so he was somebody's dad or — I don't know," Rhinestone said, talking so much that Drake couldn't get a word in even if he'd wanted to. "But anyways, so that's how I started my Christmas."

"Shit," was all that Drake could say.

"Yeah, and then this bitch at work was like, 'Well, did you try giving him mouth-to-mouth?' No, bitch, I'll leave that up to the paramedics."

"That's awful," Drake said.

Despite Rhinestone's indifference, he was sure that it had been pretty fucking terrifying at the time. He'd seen his fair share of dead bodies. His father had bled out in front of his eyes. Meelah had overdosed while he lay, high out of his mind, just a few inches away. Marcellas had shot Sammie in the head right in front of him and forced him to bury the body. These things were scarring and Drake would never forget them. Rhinestone was a lot like him whereas he could turn his pain and suffering into comedy and intriguing stories to tell friends and family over dinner.

Rhinestone sighed. "Yeah, but anyway, so what's going on with you and Dahlia? Any changes?"

"Yeah, we're — well, I don't know if we're officially back together yet. I mean, we've been talking everyday for the past week."

"Are you fucking again?"

"A few times."

"And she hangs around afterwards?"

"Yeah."

Rhinestone said, "Oh, you're definitely back together," but Drake only half-heard him because Julio had tapped on his door and pushed it open.

"Dinner's here."

Drake nodded. "Hey, Ricky just got home with dinner, so I'm gonna let you go."

"Okay, sweetie. I'll talk to you later."

Drake hung up, then went downstairs and into the kitchen, where he found Julio, Ricardo and Dee. "What'd you get?"

"Pizza. Meat lovers for me and Julio. I don't know. Dee put a bunch of shit on yours, but it's stuff you like."

Drake grabbed a plate and moved next to Dee, looking over the pizza that they were gonna share. Pineapple, red and green peppers, caramelized onions, mushrooms, jalapeños, spinach, tomatoes and extra cheese.

"I hope this is okay." Dee was a vegetarian, which Drake had learned the first time he'd joined them for dinner.

"No, totally, it looks amazing," he said, too excited and hungry to wait until he was seated before taking his first bite. "Oh my God. I'm fucking starving."

"Babe, you want a beer?" Ricardo grabbed one when Dee nodded curtly.

After getting everything situated, the four gravitated towards the living room and began talking about their day: Ricky and Dee about work, Julio about school and Drake — well, Drake just listened as he stuffed his face.

* * *

Drake drummed a short tune on the wooden door to get Julio's attention. "What up?" he asked as he stepped inside.

"Same as always," the boy said. He was resting against the headboard of his bed with a laptop on his lap as music played. "Homework."

"Grody. Hey, you haven't seen Agent Jack Bauer, have you?" He allowed his cats to roam the house freely during the daytime, but he kept them in his bedroom at night.

"Nah, I haven't. But, hey, listen to this song." He clicked on the mouse a couple times to restart the song that had been playing.

 _ **The goodbye is the hardest part**_  
 _ **When we find ourselves back at the start**_  
 _ **But I'm not so brave and I'm not so smart**_  
 _ **No, I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor**_

"Who is this?" Drake asked.

"Right? It sounds just like Twenty-One Pilots, doesn't it?" he said, "But it's Grandson."

 _ **One day you will understand**_  
 _ **Why I pushed you away as I ran**_  
 _ **And you will find a better man than I am**_  
 _ **Trust, I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor**_

 _ **Despicable**_  
 _ **I'm just a bottom feeder**_  
 _ **Despicable**_  
 _ **I ain't never been a keeper**_  
 _ **Despicable**_  
 _ **Love her then I leave her**_  
 _ **And if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither**_  
 _ **Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither**_  
 _ **I wouldn't love me neither**_  
 _ **Despicable**_

"This song is dope," said Drake as he sat down in the computer chair.

"I figured you'd like it."

 _ **The boy who fell into the sky**_  
 _ **Had no one there to watch him cry**_  
 _ **He looked at you with his empty eyes**_  
 _ **And said I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor**_

 _ **Despicable**_  
 _ **I'm just a bottom feeder**_  
 _ **Despicable**_  
 _ **I ain't never been a keeper**_  
 _ **Despicable**_  
 _ **Love her then I leave her**_  
 _ **And if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither**_  
 _ **Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither**_  
 _ **I wouldn't love me neither**_  
 _ **Despicable**_

 _ **How I wish I told a different tale**_  
 _ **Like we chased the light and his love prevailed**_  
 _ **But his blood ran cold and his skin went pale**_  
 _ **She got a letter in the mail, said**_  
 _ **I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor**_  
 _ **Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither**_  
 _ **Said if I were you**_  
 _ **Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither**_

When the song was over, Julio noticed that Drake was typing on his cell phone. "That Dahlia?"

"No, I was just adding this song to my playlist."

"So what does that make this? Like, the fifth song I've showed you that you've liked over the span of our entire friendship."

Drake cracked a grin, but it quickly disappeared with his concentration and he absentmindedly continued with the joke. "I think the fourth actually."

"Oh, my bad," Julio joked back. More seriously, he said, "You never like any of the songs I show you, but I like a majority of yours."

"I mean...listen to better music then."

"Excuse me?"

"You're music taste is kinda shit."

Julio scoffed. "Fuck you."

Drake clicked off his phone, then slipped it back into his pocket. He gave Julio his full attention now. After recalling what he had said, he retracted. "No, you know I just don't like the heavy voices. The lyrics are good, but I just don't like the sound of your music, which is fine because there have been songs I've shown you that you weren't into."

"The fact that we were ever able to be in a band together amazes me sometimes."

The boy chuckled.

"Drake!" Ricardo called.

"What?" he yelled back. He waited for a response, but got none. He rolled his eyes and stood. "Fucker always does that shit," he mumbled with irritation.

Julio grinned as he turned his attention to his laptop again.

"Anyway I'm about to go to sleep," Drake said. "I'm fucking exhausted and I haven't even done shit."

"Goodnight."

"You want me to close your door?"

"Yeah."

Drake did, then he went across the hall into the oldest's room. Ricardo lay in bed next to Dee. Both were smiling toothily and laughing about something one had said, but then Ricky noticed Drake enter.

"Your annoying cat's in here," the man said.

"She's not annoying," Dee argued. He pet the animal's soft fur as it rested on his lap and purred.

"I've been looking everywhere for her," Drake said.

"Dee's been rubbing it for the past half hour," the man said.

"Ricardo's just jealous I'm not rubbing something else," said Dee mischievously, only to receive a playful shove.

"Okay, well, that's my cue to leave." Drake took the kitten when it was passed over to him. "Night." He went back into his own room and gave Agent Jack Bauer a kiss before putting her down. He plugged his phone into the charger, drank some water, then laid down. He was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Ricardo let out a huge laugh, then turned towards the backseat to see Drake's face. The boy was less than amused as he looked up from his cell phone.

"Remind me why I came again," the youngest said.

"Because if you weren't here, who else would we crack jokes about?" Dee answered, taking his eyes off the road only for a second to glance at Drake through the rear-view mirror.

Ricardo laughed at this, too, then corrected him by saying, "So you can get out of the house."

 **Clem: gtg class is bout 2 start ily**

 **Drake: txt me when ur home I love u**

He wasn't one to shorten such serious, heartfelt words into three basic letters. "I think I've had enough of the outside world for one lifetime." He was referring to the time that he spent on the streets, but Dee didn't know this, for neither had filled him in on Drake's past.

"The fuck do you mean?! I love the outdoors!" came Dee.

Drake knew this. Not only was Dee a vegetarian. He was the kind of guy who woke up early, drank a protein shake or smoothie, then went to the gym, where he started his shift as a personal trainer after completing his own morning routine. He enjoyed going on hikes, going for jogs, walking park trails — basically anything that involved exerting energy. Yeah, he was that guy. He was tall, dark and handsome. He had muscles — noticeable and above average, but not body-builder huge. He had short hair shaved close to the scalp, a neatly trimmed beard and impeccable dimples. Oh, yeah, and he was a huge animal lover. Basically, a heartthrob who was both hot, adventurous and sensitive. He was perfect.

As they turned into the parking lot of the bar, Ricardo grabbed his travel mug. Dee pulled the car up front.

"Thanks for taking me," Ricky said. "Julio said his car should be out of the shop tomorrow, so I should have my car back then."

"I don't mind taking you to work."

"Drake, you wanna come in and say hi to everyone?"

"Uh...nah," he said as he clicked his phone off and slipped it into his pocket.

Ricardo saw his unease and didn't push further. "Alright. I'll be late for dinner. I get off at six."

"We'll wait. Bring a movie, though."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know what's out. Oh, yeah, I do. See if they have _Eighth Grade_."

"I've never heard of that. What is that? Is that another one of those movies that aren't given a wide theatrical release that you somehow find out about?"

"A24, right?" Dee said. "I'm excited for that Jonah Hill movie they produced."

"Oh, yeah, _Mid90s_ ," Drake said with enthusiasm. "I wanna see that."

"Okay, well, I'm gonna leave now and let you two carry on nerding out over pretentious hipster movies without me." Ricky leaned in a gave Dee a kiss. "Bye."

"I'll be here at six," Dee called after him.

When he was out, Drake climbed between the seats and plopped down in Ricardo's place. "So have you seen _The Disaster Artist_?"

"Are you kidding me? Tommy Wiseau is, like, the best thing to happen to the film industry. I met him at a screening actually. He and Greg were there to promote Greg's new movie _Best F(r)iends_."

"I heard about that. I never got to go see it." He had been preoccupied with making sure he had a place to sleep, food to eat and drugs to take at the time. "I'm so jealous."

"Back in college, me and my roommate used to get so stoned and watch _The Room_ over and over again."

"What's your favorite line?"

"Hmm, that's tough. There're so many good ones." Dee thought for a moment. "Probably just the first one. That _'Hi, babe.'_ It kills me every time. Apparently, I say it to Ricardo a lot without realizing and he calls me out on it."

"Relationship goals," Drake said. "I wish I could get Clem to watch it."

"What's your favorite line?"

"Uh...geez, I don't know," Drake replied. "The first time I watched it was with my old friend Kenzly." This was a good day. They were having one of those days where you lay around in your underwear surrounded by a bunch of junk food and beer. "You know when he locks himself in a room after finding out about Lisa and Mark at the party and she's asking when he'll come out? And he says, _'In a few minutes, bitch.'_ I fucking lost it. It was bad. I started choking. Beer came out my nose and everything."

Dee laughed, which made Drake laugh.

"Like, I was sitting there fucking dying and Kenzly just laughed her ass off. My nose was burning, I couldn't breath, snot was dripping down to the floor — she just fucking laughed."

"Holy fuck! That's great!" Dee said when he caught his breath.

"It was just so fucking unexpected, you know? And he said it with such aggression. I mean, he had every right to, obviously, but Christ, I wasn't ready."

"I needed to go by the flea market and pick up my dad's watch. This guy there was fixing it. You wanna go or you want me to drop you off at home?"

"I'll go."

Picking back up where they'd left off before his question, Dee asked, "So who's Kenzly?"

Drake hesitated for a moment. Who was Kenzly? An ex? A friend with benefits? A childhood bestie? A best friend in general? _A girl I totally wronged and betrayed because I let Clem control my life?_

"An old friend," he answered finally.

"An old friend, huh? Is that it? I heard a pause there."

"We don't really talk anymore."

He didn't ask why because he could tell it was a touchy subject and it wasn't his business. He'd only known Drake for roughly a week anyway. "Hey, do you wanna change the music? Ricardo's great and all, but his music taste..."

"I feel you," Drake agreed. "He never lets me touch the radio in his car." He grabbed the auxiliary cord and plugged the free end into his cell phone. "What do you wanna listen to?"

"Whatever."

Drake looked through his playlists. None of their names were really relevant to what songs were in them, but he knew what song was where. The playlists he listened to most recently were named things like "Newbies," "Refresh," or "Shower Playlist #72738." When he was looking for new music, he usually could only find about six to eight songs at a time, then he'd listen to them on repeat for so long that he'd lay around for hours searching for new music. He chose one of his playlists and, the second it started, Dee chuckled.

"Oh, shit. I haven't heard this in years. Gorillaz, right?" When a voice came through the speakers, he began singing right alone with it.

 ** _I ain't happy, I'm feeling glad_**  
 ** _I got sunshine in a bag_**  
 ** _I'm useless but not for long_**  
 ** _The future is coming on_**

"I used to listen to this all the time on the high school bus," Dee said as the chorus repeated. "This was my shit."

Drake joined him as he finished the chorus. Unlike Dee, he continued going when the rapping started, but in a comedic way that made the man laugh.

* * *

Dee walked a couple booths over with his dad's fixed watch in a case in his pocket. This booth was called The Puppy Corner and there were several puppies and kittens in cages inside. When he approached Drake, the boy was sitting in the floor up against the wall and petting some of the little cats. Dee almost couldn't find him due to all the people — mostly kids — crammed inside of the cell-like space and peering into cages. He squatted down and reached out to pet the kitten.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Drake accepted Dee's hand and was helped onto his feet. He gave the kitten back to the seller, then followed his new friend out into the parking lot and towards the car. He got inside and turned on some music again — this time, his '90s - '00s playlist because Dee seemed to like the last nostalgic song that he played. Sublime's _What I Got_ came on when he clicked shuffle.

"What are your plans today?" Dee asked.

"I'm not much of a planner. I just like to let things happen organically."

Dee called him out on his bullshit. "So basically you're gonna sit in front of the tv eating junk food alone all day?"

"That about sums it up."

"Well, I wouldn't wanna pull you away from your busy life, but I've got MarioKart 64 if you wanna hang out at my place until Ricardo gets off work."

"Oh, hell yeah! The last time I played that was...forever ago when I was babysitting for my aunt. I've always meant to buy one for home, you know, back when I was working and had the money to do so, but things always came up. The Nintendo 64 is the best gaming console to ever be created."

"Mm, I've always liked the PS2 best."

"That one's great, too," Drake agreed.

For the next ten minutes or so, they casually chatted about video games: ones they loved, ones they hated, ones that were too scary to play alone, etcetera. They went on like this until they passed by a theatre with a sign out front.

"Holy shit!" Dee said suddenly.

Drake's heart jumped with anxiety, but he calmed himself when the man gave an explanation for his outburst.

"They're auditioning for _Rent_!"

"You like _Rent_?" He and Dee had a lot more in common than he'd first thought.

"I fucking love _Rent_!" he exclaimed as he took the next turn and started looking for a free space that he could parallel park in.

"What are you doing?"

"We're gonna go audition," he said as if it was obvious.

"We? No, no, I'm not-"

"Ricardo told me you were lead vocals in a band, so come on. It's gonna be so much fun."

As the car came to a halt next to the sidewalk and Dee unbuckled his seat belt, Drake realized that he was serious. "You're really auditioning for this?"

" _We_ 're auditioning."

"No, but I can't-"

"Come on," he said with a wide grin as he got out of the car.

Drake was dumbfounded. He absently got out of the car and they walked around to the front of the building. Dee pushed open the door and they could see a stage in the distance. A rather attractive young girl was singing _Out Tonight_ , which brought a big smile onto the older boy's face.

"Dee, I can't do this," Drake whispered. He was still traumatized after the last fiasco that happened during his recent performance at Flux.

Despite his protests, Drake followed Dee down the aisle and over to a table. He was told to sign his name on a clipboard. As Dee did this, the woman asked, "Are you both auditioning?"

"No-"

Before Drake could even finish, Dee said, "Yeah, both of us."

The woman handed over two stacks with papers stapled together. Each booklet had a small portion of the original script for them to read over and study until it was time for their audition. Dee took them both because he knew that Drake wouldn't accept one voluntarily.

"No, Dee, I'm serious. I-"

"It'll be fun, though," he said as he guided him to some chairs away from other people who were waiting for their turn to show off their talent.

"I really can't. Last time I was on stage..."

Dee didn't know about his drug addiction and he didn't want to tell people if he didn't have to. Sure he knew that either himself or Ricardo would clue him in one day, but that day wasn't today. Dee and Ricky hadn't even been dating a full two weeks yet.

"Well, it was just really bad. Like...really bad."

"Then this is your chance to redeem yourself. Couldn't you go for some spontaneity to spice up your life?"

"I think I've had enough spontaneity for one lifetime."

Obviously, Dee didn't understand this. "Look, just try out for a smaller part. You don't have to be the center of attention that way. Then you can just go home and decide whether you actually wanna do it or not. If they do call and say you got the part and you really don't wanna do it, just tell them no. They have plenty of others to choose from. Or maybe you won't even get the part and you won't have to worry about any of that anyway. Honestly, what's the harm in that?"

Drake sighed. "Fine. Alright. Fuck."

Dee was happy about this and it showed on his face. "This is gonna be so much fun!"

* * *

"Honestly, I've never played this with anyone who can come close to beating me, but you actually gave me a challenge," Dee complimented as he set down his Nintendo controller. "Better luck next time."

"Better luck next time? We tied."

"And when you tie, they give first place to player one."

"That's such bullshit."

"Anyway, you cheated, so I should've won by a landslide."

"I didn't cheat," Drake argued.

"Then what do you call jumping over the wall in Wario Stadium?"

"I call that 'eat my fucking dust, loser.'"

"And jumping over the gate on Rainbow Road to land on the road down below?"

"It's strategy," Drake defended.

"It's cheating."

"Whatever."

"Cheaterrr," Dee taunted.

Drake rolled his eyes and stood. "Can I get a drink?"

"Yeah, of course," said Dee. "How did you learn to play like that anyway? You're really good for someone who hasn't played in a few years."

Drake opened the refrigerator and saw a bunch of fruits and vegetables. His beverage options were almond milk, water, some strange-colored juice concoction and diet green tea with citrus. He chose the tea. "My step-brother is obsessed with video games." Is? Was? Did he still play? Thinking about Josh and how little he knew about him now depressed him. "We used to play all the time. Since he spent half his life playing it, I had to learn how to beat him."

"I didn't know you had a step-brother."

Drake wanted to change the subject, but he didn't want to be incredibly obvious about it. "Where are the glasses?"

"Oh." Dee hopped up, made his way into the kitchen, then opened one of the cabinets. "Right here."

"Thanks."

"So what's your step-brother's name?"

"Josh."

"Is he older or younger?"

"Younger, but not by much. We're both twenty-one."

"What does he do?"

Drake tilted the cup over his lips and took a sip to avoid answering. "Hmm?" After Dee repeated the question, Drake swallowed down the tea that was in his mouth. "He, uh... You know, I'm actually not sure what he does."

"You don't know where your step-brother works?"

"We're...not really close."

"Oh. What about the rest of your family?"

"We don't... We don't really talk anymore." _Think of something! Find something else to talk about!_

"Wow, really? Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay. It's just..." Drake didn't know what to say. His family was good people and he didn't want Dee to think otherwise because of his cryptic answers. "I just made a lot of mistakes, so..." he tried to explain, taking all the blame (which he did with sincerity).

"When's the last time you spoke to them?" Dee asked, his voice soft and kind.

"Um, I don't know. Maybe...a few years." He kept it vague.

"Shit."

"Yeah." There was a pause, then, "But they're all amazing. It was just me and my shit."

"Really? You seem like such a chill guy."

"Well, good, 'cause that's what I'm going for." Drake said. He motioned towards a painting that was hanging on the wall behind Dee. "That's really cool." A+ for subtlety. _Not_.

"Oh, yeah, I painted it about a year ago."

" _You_ painted that?"

"Yeah. You like it?"

"So you can paint, you can sing, you can act, you work out, you're athletic, you eat healthy, you love animals, you're good at video games, you're nice and you look like a Greek god. Jesus, do you spend your spare time volunteering for charity?"

Dee shrugged with a small smirk. "I dabble."

"You know, you're annoyingly perfect. You and Ricardo deserve each other."

An even bigger smile spread over Dee's lips with this. "That was the most backhanded compliment I've ever received, but...thanks?"

Well, the subject was finally changed. Mission accomplished. "Hey, so what other Nintendo games do you have?"

"You like Tony Hawk Pro Skater?"

* * *

"That's so fucking awesome!" Ricardo turned towards the back seat and gave Drake a smile after hearing about their spontaneous play auditions. "I'm so proud of you!" He then slipped his hand inside of Dee's free one, pulled it up to his mouth and kissed it. "Both of you."

The car slowed to a halt at a stop sign. Dee leaned in and gave his boyfriend a quick peck on the lips before pressing on the gas again.

"And Drake was great," Dee said. "For someone who's never acted a day in his life — I mean, I was fucking impressed."

On the contrary, Drake had pretended to be a different person from the ages of thirteen to eighteen. For five years, he hid his true self and played a different character. Also, like Dee had suggested, he'd auditioned for a small role. Although that role plays multiple different people and was still on stage a good bit, he would be in the background as one of the homeless people and later as one of the junkies. He had real-life experience as both, which is probably why he had done so well at them. He couldn't say this out loud in front of Dee, though.

"Who did you audition for?" Ricardo asked Dee.

"Collins, Benny and as a minor character."

"I watched _Rent_ with Drake close to a year ago. Help me out here. Collins is..."

"The teacher dating Angel. Mark and Roger's friend."

"That's right. And Benny's the guy trying to kick them all out." When Dee nodded his confirmation, Ricky turned to Drake again. "Who did you try out for?"

"Just a minor character."

"They play multiple different people throughout the play," Dee added.

Drake hoped that Dee didn't go into specifics because he could already see the look Ricardo would give him upon hearing that Drake would have to play an addict. There was no use getting him all riled up about it because he didn't expect to get cast in the play. And if he did? Dee made him do it anyway.

"It's this one with the black car," he said and Dee turned into the driveway.

"You coming back home tonight?" Ricardo asked.

"I don't know. I might stay here."

"You know you got that appointment tomorrow, remember?"

"Yeah."

"Text me later and let me know so I know if I need to leave earlier to swing by and pick you up."

"Okay," Drake said. He got out of the back seat, then started up the driveway. As he passed the driver's side window, he thanked Dee for dropping him off. He had texted Dahlia to let her know that he was here, so she met him at the door as he climbed up the steps. He greeted her with a kiss.

"Hey, babe." She gave him a smile, then led him inside. After closing the door, she connected their lips again.

Drake couldn't begin to describe how great it felt to be with her again. He was head-over-heels in love with this girl. He had royally fucked up before and, by some miracle, she had taken his sorry ass back. He never wanted to hurt her like that again. He didn't deserve a girlfriend who was so forgiving. "I missed you," he said in between kisses.

When their lips finally separated, they stood there embracing each other. Even Drake's eyes sparkled when he looked at her. He wore a big smile.

"God, I love you so much."

She smiled back, hugged even tighter, then tilted her head up and gave him another quick peck on the lips. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

"Sam and Brett went out to pick up a couple pizzas. They just left not long after you pulled up." She was now giving him hungry eyes. "Which means we have some alone time..."

Already, blood was rushing to his penis.

"Whoa, down, boy. You said you were starving, so me first." As she said this, she pressed her body against him.

Their lips connected again and Drake lifted Clem up while her legs wrapped around him. They ended up in the bedroom and Drake set her down on the foot of the bed. He pulled off her shirt and tossed it to the side. When she laid back, he leaned over her and kissed her some more. She unbuttoned his plaid shirt, then pushed it back. He wiggled his arms to help her get the sleeves off without having to pull his lips away. She rubbed her hands up his chest, then back down so that she could undo his jeans. She pushed them and his underwear down his legs and he kicked them away, then he helped her remove hers. He wrapped an arm around her back, for he was about to scoot her up onto the bed more so that he could climb on top of her, but she pushed him onto his knees. Like a peasant serving his queen, he bowed down over her spread legs and did what she wanted. She rested her bent knees on the boy's shoulders, laid back and relaxed.

He was down there skillfully working on her for quite some time. The loud, pornstar-type moaning that left her lips got him rock hard. He had to physically force his hand to keep from finishing himself off and, a couple times, his hips bucked uncontrollably. By the sounds leaving her, he could tell that she was orgasming. He kept at it until she squirted.

She scooted herself back and smiled seductively at him. He climbed on top of her and wasted no time as he thrust into her. He let out a moan with the first one. He felt pleasure all over his body. His heart was beating fast and he was coated with sweat. He shivered as her fingernails grazed up and down his skin from his back to his arms to his side to his ass. She whispered encouragement with dirty and vulgar words. This led to another moan as Drake repositioned himself a bit, putting a hand up on the headboard to support himself so that he could move his hips with much more freedom.

Somehow, miraculously, Drake's mind was able to separate from the feelings of pleasure and he remembered something rather important. "Shit, I forgot to put on a condom." He pulled out, but Clementine stopped him from getting up.

"I'm on the pill, remember?"

That was enough for Drake. He pushed back inside of her and continued his rhythm as if he'd never missed a beat.

"I want your cum inside me."

Drake thrust more forcefully and his hips moved faster and faster like a jackrabbit. He could feel his climax starting. A moan erupted from him as sweat poured off of his face. His inhales and exhales grew louder. On his next exhale, he let go of another moan.

"Come on. Harder. I want your cock so far in me I can't walk afterwards. Harder!"

Another moan. "I'm gonna cum," he warned. Moments later, he blew his load inside of her as a couple more moans left him. His hips continued to buck a couple times after it was over. He rested there for a moment, catching his breath and relishing in the amazing feeling. He rolled over and laid on his back next to her with a thud, still breathing heavily. Moments later, he felt her grip his hand. He turned his head towards her and just looking at her made him smile. He gently rubbed his thumb against her skin, then pulled her hand up to his mouth to give it a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She snuggled up next to him and rested her head on his arm. Despite how sweaty and hot he was, he didn't mind.

"You're much louder during a shag than you used to be," she said.

He'd always made sure whatever girl he was with could tell that he was enjoying it as well, but he, too, noticed that he hadn't been holding anything back recently. On the streets, he would always exaggerate and overcompensate because 1). it got the guys to ejaculate faster, 2). it left them with a large ego and some were willing to pay more the next time he approached them, 3). some thought they were actually good at fucking when they weren't and would choose Drake over the competition because of his enthusiasm, and 4). more than half the time, he was faking but had to give them their money's worth.

"Is it a turn-off?" Drake asked.

"No, I like it. It's hot," she assured. "It's just weird, I guess. We get back together and...the sex is still amazing — don't get me wrong. It's just...different. Like the other day, you let me choke you. You never let me do that before."

Clem was into a lot of the more milder BDSM kinks and Drake enjoyed most, but choking was one that he had refused to let her do since they'd started going together. His mind was so quick to travel to other places during it. He could easily forget where he was and who he was with and think that he was back at his father's while Martin forced Drake to masturbate and wouldn't stop strangling him until he could get himself off. He'd quickly had to get over this on the streets. As it turned out, a lot of men were into that, possibly because their wives wouldn't allow them to fulfill their fantasies of torture, rape and full power and control at home. Drake did. He'd had to.

Clementine continued. "It just makes me wonder what kinds of things you were doing out there."

Drake looked at her and felt so guilty about every single blowjob, every single fuck, every single threesome, that one foursome, and every single guy he even touched in a sensual manner. "I'll never stop hating myself for all the pain I put you through. You deserve...so much better. I'm a piece of shit and I'm just so grateful that you let my pathetic ass back into your life. I don't deserve you." He wanted to cry, but he didn't want her to feel bad about expressing her feelings because she had every right to after what he'd done. His voice was soft and genuine as he forced himself to be courageous enough to meet her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

She could see that they were glazed over with tears although he hoped that she couldn't tell. She didn't feel the least bit bad. Instead, she was elated because she knew right then that she had complete control over him again. He was wrapped around her finger and his guilt tied the knot that kept him there.

"Come on," she said, sitting up as if she had already forgotten about their conversation. "Let's go shower."

She felt great now. She felt on top of the world. Drake, on the other hand, was filled with sadness and self-hatred and he would obsess over this conversation for a long time. The only thing that could make him feel better was doing everything he could to make Clem happy. He would do anything for her. She had him right where she wanted him.

* * *

Drake slipped on his shirt as Dahlia brushed through her wet hair.

"I'll be out there in a minute," she said.

The young man grabbed their pile of dirty clothes and left the bathroom with them, then made a right for the laundry room down the hall towards his girlfriend's bedroom.

"Drake!" Sam covered her mouth as she quickly finished chewing and then swallowing down her bite of pizza. Her eyes were wide. "Oh my God! What the fuck?! Hey!" She put her half-eaten slice down on the kitchen table and rushed over to him, pulling him into a hug.

Brett was right behind her. "How are you, bro? It's been months." When Sam pulled away from Drake, he took her spot, patting the boy's back as he embraced him. He pulled away with a smile. "It's good to see you again."

Drake forced a shy smile. "Yeah. Lemme put this up really quick." He tossed the clothes into the laundry room hamper and then followed them to the kitchen table.

"What's been up? When did you get back?" Sam asked as if he had gone on some sort of trip or vacation.

"You look good," Brett noticed, taking this as a sign that Drake was, once again, clean.

"Thanks. Yeah, I've been over a couple times this week, but you guys were either asleep or not here."

"Dahlia told us we kept just missing you. I was starting to think she was lying about you two getting back together," Sam said, still shocked that he was sitting right in front of her. "So what's new? I mean, how are you?"

"I'm okay. You know, things were really...just rough, I guess," the boy said shamefully with his head low. "I did get your messages. They were really nice and I appreciated them. I'm sorry I didn't respond. It was such a dick thing to do. I know you guys were worried about me and I apologize for putting you through that."

"It's okay." Brett rubbed his bicep supportively. "How are you doing now?"

"Better. I've just been working on starting over and it's been a lot. I'll be three weeks clean tomorrow."

"Hey, that's great!" Brett said.

"If there's anything we can do to help, just let us know," Samantha said. "Brat and I love you and we'd do anything for you." Her boyfriend nodded his agreement.

"Thanks." He felt relieved that he was getting so much support from them, but at the same time, it was making him feel extremely guilty. Finally, he met their eyes. "I'm just really sorry. I don't know. I really suck sometimes."

"We all suck sometimes," Brett said. "I'm just glad you came back."

"I didn't have much of a choice. It was starting to get really bad out there. I probably would've overdosed and died had I not gone home when I did."

When Clem had come over with bruises that day, Drake had told her everything. Because of who Clementine was, this also meant that Sam and Brett knew everything, too. He didn't mind it too much. He didn't think he would've ever had the guts to tell them himself about all of the shameful things he had done on the streets. As his mind replayed in graphic detail some of the more embarrassing things, he started crying.

Sammie and Brat spoke at the same time.

Sam: Oh, Drake...

Brett: Don't cry.

The girl moved her chair closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, allowing Drake to weep on her should while Brett rubbed circles on his back.

Drake's voice cracked. "I'm sorry," he apologized for inconveniencing them with his emotional bullshit.

"No, don't be," Brett said.

His voice was muffled as he hid his face in the crook of Sam's neck. "I'm so ashamed."

"You don't have to feel that way around us, babe," Sam comforted. "You're the same old Drake to us. We don't see you any differently and we don't think any less of you."

Just then, Sammie's dog barked in that annoying, high-pitched bark that little dogs have, then he jumped into Drake's lap.

"See, even Coco missed you," Brett said.

Drake chuckled through his drying tears as he pulled away from Sam and combed his fingers through the dog's fur. "I missed you, too." He used his free hand to wipe away the rest of the wetness around his eyes, took a breath, then shakily let it go. "Sorry. I don't know where all that came from."

"It's okay." Sam stood and kissed the top of his head like a mother would do. "You want some pizza? Let me grab you a plate. You want something to drink?"

"It's okay. I'll get it."

Samantha refused to allow him to serve himself, so he gave in and told her what he wanted to drink. She grabbed a can of Vanilla Coke (he knew Sam always made sure to keep these in stock) and a plate and passed them to Drake before taking her seat again.

"Thank you," he said.

"No problem."

Drake picked up his slice, but before taking a bite, he asked, "So enough of my bullshit. What's new with you two?"

"I don't think anything is really going on with us," Brett said. "Just the same old things."

Drake would give anything to live a normal, boring life like they did. (He meant this in the best way possible).

Sam nodded her agreement, but then remembered, "Oh, Brat got a promotion at work last month!"

Drake wasn't sure exactly what it was that Brett did. It had something to do with installing electricity in newly built houses or something, if he remembered correctly. Not what you would expect from him based on his looks. He looked more like a football player or lifeguard or personal trainer.

"That's awesome!" Drake congratulated. "Did it come with a pay raise?"

"Yup, and better hours. Now I have weekends off."

"Nice."

"What about you? Have you gotten back out into the working field?" Samantha asked.

"Not yet. Ricky wanted me to take things slowly and not pile so much on all at once."

"Good idea," Brett said. "Is he open to letting you come back and work for him when you're ready to work?"

"Yeah, I just don't know if I wanna do that. I totally fucked him over by leaving like I did and I don't want him to feel like he has to hire me back because we're best friends."

"I don't think that's it at all. I think he thinks you're great at what you do, the customers love you and you have a big support group there that has gone through similar things as you. Plus, if one of your infamous mood swings or cravings occur, he'll know. Honestly, if you liked that job, I think going back would be a great idea."

"Whatever you do, just stay out of fast-food," Sam said.

"Oh, a hundred percent," Brett agreed.

"Duly noted," said Drake.

Around this time, Dahlia came out of the bathroom and joined them in the kitchen. She grabbed a drink and plate and sat down next to Drake, who took her hand underneath the table. "What's everyone talking about?"

"Work," said Sam.

Since Clem didn't have a job because she got what she wanted from her parents, Drake asked her, "How is school going?"

She rolled her eyes and groaned. "I'm just ready for graduation," she said. "I don't even wanna think about school. I have two big projects coming up on top of the normal homework, studying and rubbish."

"I can help," Drake offered. He helped Julio all the time.

She laughed. "Yeah, if I wanted to flunk out of the class."

His feelings were hurt, but this was the kind of abuse he didn't know he needed — just a little sliver of what he was missing since his father's passing. He noticed Sam and Brett were stunned by Clem's rude put-down, but just like he did for his dad, he covered for her. "Well, I could definitely get you a solid D+."

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass, thanks."

* * *

Drake set down the PS4 controller and stretched. "Guys, I think it's time for me to go to bed."

"I didn't even realize it was so late," Brett said. "I've got work in the morning."

"Looks like we're gonna turn in, too," Sam said.

Drake stood and stretched again. They had been sitting in the living room playing _Resident Evil: Biohazard_ , continuing where they had left off many months ago. It was getting close to one in the morning and Drake's back was aching.

"Night." He made his way to his girlfriend's bedroom and found her at her desk, her eyes skimming through pages of a textbook. He approached her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, then kissed the top of her head. "How's it coming along?"

"Did I mention I hate school?"

Drake brushed his fingers through her hair, then rubbed her scalp as he looked over her shoulder at what she was reading. She had been right. This was probably something that he would've been incapable of helping her with. Becoming a doctor was no easy feat. He moved his hands to her shoulders and massaged them.

"Mmm, that feels good," she moaned. After a few moments, she came to her senses and pushed his hands away. "I gotta finish this."

He wrapped his arms around her torso again and buried his head in her neck.

"Stop," she tried as he sucked on her skin. "Drake, come on. I've gotta work," she said through her giggles.

One of his hands moved down her stomach and slipped into the waistband of her miniskirt. His other went upwards: over her breast, past her collarbone, up to her scalp. He roughly pulled her hair (which she often enjoyed) so that he could get to her neck better.

She let go of her breath and closed her eyes as she felt a tingling between her thighs. This went on for another twenty seconds or so before she was strong enough to resist. "Okay, seriously. I have to read these chapters." She pushed his hands away again.

Drake pulled back with a sigh. "How long until you're done?"

"I would at least like to get through this chapter tonight."

"So it's not a requirement?"

"I'm serious."

"Okay, okay." Drake went over to his designated drawer, grabbed some pajama pants, then left the room. Once in the bathroom, he relieved himself, washed his hands, brushed his teeth and changed pants. He went into the laundry room then and started a load of his and Clem's clothes to make sure he had something to wear for his appointment in the morning. After this, he went back into the girl's room. "I started the laundry."

"Thanks," she said absently.

He looked over her shoulder and checked the page number, noticing that she had read five pages while he was gone. "Read to me," he said.

She started reading out loud. He picked up her hair brush and gently combed through her beautiful blonde hair as he stood behind her. She didn't have a problem with this. She loved when he played with her hair. Several minutes of this went by until she announced rather excitedly that she only had two pages left. Drake decided to braid her hair. He reached over to set the brush down, but accidentally knocked over a cup full of pens, pencils, highlighters, erasers, paperclips, etcetera.

"Drake!"

"Sorry. I'll get it. Don't mind me."

He got what little landed on the desk, then got on his knees and picked everything up off the floor. The items didn't get too far except for a bright green pencil eraser. It was under her desk by the computer wires. He scooted under there carefully and picked it up. While he was down there, he just so happened to noticed that Clementine wasn't wearing any underwear.

"...in the mind, as with in the human body, that all parts work — Drake!"

"Keep going," she heard him say as he spread her legs further apart.

She was close to the end of her chapter anyway, so she didn't mind him getting her going early. She continued reading out loud as his tongue touched her skin. She was fine for a while, but he was really going at it, so while she went through the last page, her reading was affected. She would get some words out, then they'd be broken up by a moan or heavy breathing or an "Oh, God..."

When she finally got through her reading, she closed her book. The two made their way over to the bed, stripped down, then went at it again with her on top this time.

* * *

Clementine woke up to an empty bed. She realized this when she reached her arm over and found that Drake's body was missing. She looked around her room and found him at the dresser. He was fresh out of the shower and pulling up a pair of faded black skinny jeans.

"You're leaving?"

"Not right now."

"You have plans or something?"

He noticed a hint of irritation in her voice and looked over at her as he zipped up his pants. "I have an appointment," he said vaguely.

"An appointment? For what?"

He grabbed his Rolling Stones tee and slipped it over his head. After a hesitation, he averted his eyes and quietly said, "A psychiatrist."

"What? A psychiatrist? For what?" She sat up with the comforter wrapped around her, hiding her nude body.

"So I can stop crying and being so sad all the time."

"Am I not enough for you?"

Drake was taken aback by this. "No, of course you are."

"Then why do you need to put shit in your body to make you feel okay?"

"Ricky and Julio think it's a good idea for me to get something that'll keep me from acting so crazy and impulsive." He sat down on the bed with his back to her.

"Oh, I see what this is now."

"What?"

"Nothing. I shouldn't say."

He was baited. "Tell me."

"Ricardo and Julio want you to go and get drugged up so you'll stop bothering them with your problems. It sounds to me like they're tired of you."

"They're not like that, though," Drake disagreed.

"Well, we'll see."

Her quickness to drop the subject left him questioning himself. "You really think that's how they feel?"

"I could be wrong," Clementine said innocently as if this wasn't all one big plot to further keep him under her control. "I mean, what do I know, right? You've known them way longer than I have."

Whether he believed her or not, she had planted a seed and she could see that it was already sprouting.

"Can I just be honest about something?"

"Of course," he said.

"Like, you know I love you, but have you researched what taking medications like this will do to your mind and body? You're gonna become a completely different person."

"But maybe I won't be as suicidal and impulsive."

"If it takes the edge off the sad stuff, don't you think it'll 'take the edge off' the happy stuff, too? Everything will just be mediocre to you and then it'll get really depressing," she said. If she lost to a shrink, there would be three other people/things in Drake's life that would have a higher amount of control over him than her: Ricardo, Julio and the medications.

"I feel like it might be worth it if it keeps me from wanting to die all the time," he said. "You know how fast my brain can convince me of a bunch of shit, which leads to drug cravings, which lead to relapse, which leads to living on the streets and whoring myself out. I'm kinda desperate," he admitted. "I don't wanna lose control again."

"Do you really think it's the best idea to tell some stranger all about your problems and rehash the past?"

"Well, I don't think they talk to you for that long. They're different than counselors. That's what Julio said. He's been to one."

"They prescribed him medicine?"

"Yeah."

"And did they work for him?"

"Well, he never took them," the boy said.

"Why not?"

"He said he didn't want them to turn him into a zombie."

She looked at him as if her point was proven and it kind of was. The guy who aided in convincing Drake to get medicated for depression and anxiety refused to take the medication he himself had been prescribed for depression and anxiety because he didn't want the pills to change him. They really were tired of Drake's baggage.

"Look, babe, it's not just that." Dahlia wrapped her arms around Drake's torso and rested her head on his back. She could hear his heart beating inside of him. "I just feel like...like I'm always in second place with you. Either you put drugs before me or Ricardo before me, and if you go through with this, you're putting yourself before me. I feel like I'm just an afterthought to you."

"But you're not!" Drake turned towards her and took her hands. "You literally mean the world to me!" He felt guilty for not showing her enough how truly important she was to him.

"If you start taking antidepressants, you're gonna turn into a drugged-up zombie. You'll be a completely different person. You're not gonna be the Drake I know — the Drake I fell in love with."

Drake looked absolutely crushed as she pulled her hands away and started slipping on some clothes, covering herself with the bare minimum. "What are you saying?"

She picked up the rest of her clothes so that she could drop them off in the laundry room before taking a shower. "All I'm saying is that you can't expect me to stay with an emotionless freak I've never met before."

* * *

"What I'm trying to say is that, lately, you know, we basically just spend our nights inside and have sex. And it's great," Dee assured. "I just think we're moving a little fast."

Ricardo looked up from the mail he had been sifting through. "Like, you mean you wanna see other people?"

"No! God, no. I'm just saying that we haven't really gone out much. Like on an actual date. I'm a man of class. I like to be wined and dined before jumping into bed with someone."

Ricky smirked as he made his way over to him. "Okay, so what did you have in mind?" He wrapped his arms around Dee's lower back.

"I was thinking we could catch a movie later. You know, we'll get some popcorn, and instead of actually watching the movie, we'll both be overthinking how we're gonna make a move. And you'll do that fake yawn and stretch thing and end up with your arm draped over my shoulder, then I'll reach for some popcorn at the same time as you and 'accidentally' grab your hand."

A laugh erupted from Ricardo. "If that's what you want, I can do that."

"So it's a date then?"

"It's a date." He pressed his lips against his boyfriend's.

Around this time, Julio came down the stairs. "Good morning, lovebirds." He went straight for the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He twisted off the top and gulped some down as he leaned against the counter and turned back to the two, who were still connected. "I'm officially the only one in this house not getting laid," he noticed.

Dee and Ricardo separated and laughed at this.

"Don't sell yourself short," Ricky said. "You and your right hand make a great couple."

Again, Dee laughed as he poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"I'm left-handed, jackass."

"Seriously?"

"Are _you_ serious? I've only been your brother for twenty-one years."

"I know you're left-handed, Julio. I was kidding."

Julio squinted his eyes skeptically. "I feel like you weren't, though."

"Who do you think bought that left-handed bass of yours?" To change the subject, the man asked, "Anyway, isn't it a little early to start drinking?"

"There's no school today, so I'm getting drunk and playing video games all day."

Just then Ricardo's phone started to ring.

"It's Drake." Dee tossed it to him.

"Hey, I was just on my way to come get you." Pause. "What? Drake, what the fuck?" Another pause. "This is important, though."

The playful atmosphere in the Santos kitchen subsided. Neither knew what was going on on the other end of the conversation, but Ricardo sounded pissed.

"Where is this coming from? What did she say to you?" Pause. "I know she did. Let me talk to her... Because this is bullshit... Drake, you've been looking forward to this for three weeks. You know how long it takes to schedule an appointment with these people... I don't give a shit, Drake! Drake? ... Drake?" Ricardo looked at his phone screen and saw that the boy had hung up. In a rage, he angrily tossed his phone onto the countertop. "That toxic fucking bitch!"

"He changed his mind about going?" Julio asked.

" _He_ didn't. She did! I know she got into his head. She always does shit like this." He was fuming. "Ella es una sociópata manipuladora!"

Both of the other guys were silent. It was always best to let Ricardo have a few moments of silence to cool down and collect his thoughts. Dee didn't know this because he hadn't yet witnessed this side of his new boyfriend, but he followed Julio's lead. Julio knew much more about the situation as a whole anyway, so if _he_ was keeping his mouth shut, then Dee knew that chiming in, despite wanting to help, would only make matters worse.

"Hijo de puta. Fuck it. I'm going over there."

"Need backup?" Julio asked.

"No, I'll probably calm down during the drive."

Julio doubted this. After a moment, he said, "Yeah, I'm just gonna go get my shoes."

When he left the kitchen, Dee finally approached his boyfriend. He still remained silent, but he rubbed his back supportively.

"I'm sorry. I blew up."

"It's okay," Dee said. "Is _he_ okay?"

"Other than the fact that he's got literally _the worst_ girlfriend in the world who treats him like shit and manipulates him out of doing something that he really needs?"

"Honestly, I thought she was really bitchy, too, when I first met her, but I didn't say anything because you acted like you two were friends."

This actually made Ricardo chuckle. "I just do that to keep the peace. Drake knows how I feel about her. She doesn't have to know."

"See, that's where we're different. I know I'm usually this nice, quiet, friendly guy, but the second someone pisses me off, I'll snap on a bitch."

Again, Ricky let go of a small laugh. "If only I was even half as gutsy as you."

"If you stick with me, it'll rub off on you, I'm sure."

Ricardo let Dee pull him into a comforting embrace. Still, he was obsessing over the recent phone call. "I just don't understand. What could she possibly have said to make him change his mind? Three weeks, he's been looking forward to this. How on earth does she do it? And so fucking quickly! Hell, it took me three years to get him to finally agree to go." He knew he was getting worked up again and took a breath, then exhaled, but more thoughts came to him. "And how does he not see through her? How does he not see that she's using him? She doesn't love him. I wouldn't even be surprised if she didn't even like him. Or, hey, maybe he does know and still wants to be with her because..." He didn't want to spill all of Drake's secrets because he knew that it wasn't his place. "...because he's just been through so much shit. It just doesn't make sense. Anytime someone is nice to him, he gets nervous and questions their motives. You know how many times I've had to reassure him — literally out of nowhere — that we were still friends? You know how many times _she_ 's had to do that? None. Not even once. I just don't understand. I've done everything for him and it still feels like, even after living together for so long, he doesn't trust that I do these things out of a place of love and not pity or guilt. It's fucking frustrating."

Dee continued to listen while he vented.

"I mean, I take that back. I do get why he's like that. Like, I've gone through some pretty fucked up shit in my past, but his shit is on a whole new level. And it _never_ ends. It's like one day, everything is going just fine and then something happens, then something else happens, then something else happens. Life just knocks him down over and over and over again, and honestly, I'm surprised he's still able to get back up. I know I definitely couldn't have done it," Ricardo admitted. "And no matter how many times you try to tell him how strong he is for it, he just doesn't see it. It never clicks with him." He was starting to wonder if anything he had just said made any sense since he was being so vague about everything. "Anyway, I just went on a whole tangent. Basically, my point is, I just wish he would get the fucking help he needs. It took so long for him to get to the point where he was willing to accept it and I was so excited for it. I feel like I got my hopes up and someone just pulled the rug out from under me."

"Maybe talking to him face-to-face will help him see things your way," Dee said.

"I guess we'll see."

* * *

Clementine leaned closer to the mirror as she applied her bright red lipstick with a steady hand. Her face expressed her inner feelings of confidence, satisfaction and power. She hadn't stayed to watch Drake make his decision, but she knew exactly what her boyfriend would do with the ultimatum she had not-so-subtly given him. Today was a good day and a good day calls for celebration.

She gave her make-up a once over, then left the bathroom and made her way back to her bedroom with the air of a spoiled princess. Once inside, she found Drake weeping. "What's wrong?" She audaciously feigned confusion and compassion.

Drake's voice cracked when he said, "I told Ricky I wasn't going to the psychiatrist and now he hates me."

She gave him a pout, then made her way over to him. "I hate that you're upset, but I'm glad you're finally opening your eyes and seeing what kind of person he really is."

"He yelled at me. He never yells at me." It was so easy for his brain to send him back to his dad's when people, men especially, raised their voices at him. This brought back all those familiar feelings of being an annoying botherer, being a life-ruiner and being loathed.

"Well, you know what? Fuck him. Who needs him?" Dahlia said as she went over to her dresser and grabbed a sparkly necklace off of her jewelry stand. "You know, I've been meaning to bring this up, but I knew he had such a tight grip on you that I didn't think it would go over well." She turned back to him with a smile, showing off just how hot she looked despite the fact that he was sitting there wanting to die. "I think you should move in here," she said.

"What?"

She sat down next to him and snuggled against him, pulling his arm across her shoulders. "Just think about it. We'll always be together. We'll wake up next to each other every morning, maybe mess around a little," she teased, "and we'll shower and eat breakfast together. Doesn't that all sound romantic? It'll be like we're married. Don't you want that?"

He looked at her. "You're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Don't you love me?"

"Of course I love you. More than anything."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's...it's just sudden...is all."

Dahlia's demeanor changed to anger and she stood. "You know what? Forget it."

"Clem-"

"Just do what you wanna do."

The door opened before she reached it and Sam stepped inside. "Ricardo's here." Then she whispered, "He looks pissed."

Fear flashed across Drake's eyes and his heart started pounding against his chest. "Fuck," he said quietly.

"Just fucking go," Clementine said. "Honestly, I don't even give a shit anymore."

"Clem-"

But she was gone.

Sam noticed her stomp into the other bedroom. "I guess we'll be in my room. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah."

After she left, he gave himself a few moments of solitude before taking a breath and meeting his guest in the living room. Ricardo wasn't alone; he was joined by his brother. It was already apparent to everyone involved that this was going to be bad. The room felt like a volcano on the verge of erupting and, after everything was over, the aftermath felt just as catastrophic. It put a huge riff in their friendship and left more scars on all of them than anticipated.

* * *

Despite the fact that the argument had lasted for a good thirty minutes or so, Drake had managed to keep his tears back. However, now that Julio and Ricardo had left, he was a fucking mess. They were back in Dahlia's room. She was in front of the mirror, wiping off the make-up her tears had smeared and preparing to reapply because she was still going out to celebrate, especially now just to spite the Santos brothers. Drake hadn't made it as far as the door before he slid his back down the wood and rested on his bottom. Unlike his girlfriend, he was still full-on sobbing and it wasn't just because of the things his roommates — ex roommates — had said. He, too, had spewed a lot of fucked up shit that he knew would cut deep, but this was only after Clementine had joined the fight by attacking Ricardo, who retaliated with insults that got her crying, which had enraged Drake.

This entire thing had been bound to end badly. Ricardo had come in hot and, before either one knew what was happening, both were yelling. Julio tried to tame it, but gave up to aggressively defend himself when Drake accused him of being a hypocrite for not taking the meds that he was practically forcing on Drake. This went on for a while. The second Drake had dropped the bomb that he was moving out, this caused a whole other wave of arguments. Clementine had heard her boyfriend accept her invitation and left Sam's room to side with him because two against one was unfair. This is when the insults started. They were all attacking each others' characters and motives. A lot of things were said that both parties (with the exception of Dahlia) went on to regret. There were threats to get the police involved on her end. Soon after, the Santos brothers were forced to retreat.

"I hope you know your friends are pieces of shit," Dahlia said, then, "Actually, they're not your friends anymore. I don't want you talking to them ever again. Got it?" She knew she had this ability because it had worked when she'd forced him to drop Kenzly.

Drake couldn't respond even if he'd wanted to. He could hardly catch his breath through his bawling. His entire body was trembling. It took Dahlia a couple seconds to determine that this was from fear rather than anger. She could hear the beginning of loud, frantic breathing. It wasn't long at all until he was hyperventilating.

"God, the fucking audacity they had!" Clem exclaimed. "You tell them no one time and they go fucking ballistic! I've tried telling you a thousand times and you never listen to me. I told you something like this was bound to happen. They're fucking childish!"

Drake closed his eyes and his face expressed pain. "I can't...breathe..." he quietly managed in between his gasps for air. He wasn't sure if she just didn't hear him or chose to ignore him because his words didn't incite a reaction.

"And what the fuck were you doing out there?" she continued to rant. "Your puny little remarks were a joke. They were bullying me and saying I was all of this horrible rubbish and you just stood there and let them do it when you should've knocked them on their fucking asses like a _good_ boyfriend would've done for his queen. Carter would've done it. It's kind of pathetic to be honest, Drake."

"...I...c...can...can't..." Drake clawed at his throat, even ripping the collar of his shirt so that he would have more space to breathe. The room was getting smaller and smaller by the second.

"And they brought up a ton of shit from the past, too. I can't believe you told them even half of that shit. What do you do when I'm not around, huh? You guys sit around playing soggy biscuit and talking rubbish about me? You fucking tell them I hit you? Did you ever tell them what you did or said to me prior that led up to it? I bet not. I wasn't the bad guy in those scenarios and I can't believe you would betray me like that."

Drake was loyal. He never once told anyone when she hit him. However, when he went home with bruises or scratches or bright red handprints or a busted lip or bleeding nose, it was obvious, even on those occasions when he'd first tried covering them with make-up before facing Ricardo and Julio. He wished that he could defend himself and apologize to her, but it was hard to get even the smallest amount of words out.

"HUUH! HUUUH! Please — HUUUUH — ple...please, help...can't... Help me..."

Finally, she stood and went over to him. "Christ, just calm down, okay? It's over. There's no reason for you to be freaking out."

Nothing she said comforted him. First off, she was basically diminishing his problems and shaming him for even being upset and, secondly, you _never_ tell someone to calm down when they are having a panic attack.

"How long do these meltdowns usually last?" she asked. "I've never seen you act like this before. It must just be around Ricardo and Julio. See, that should've been a sign right there that they were no good for you. The universe has been trying to tell you something and you refused to see it," she said.

He felt more and more like shit every time she opened her mouth. This wasn't helping. "...can't..."

"You can't breathe. Yeah, I got that," she said. "Just...focus on your breathing or whatever. Don't you know what to do? Hasn't this happened before? Shouldn't you be able to stop these by now?"

She was no help. The only person who knew how to handle Drake at this time was Ricardo, and honestly...Drake was desperate. Through his panic, he started trying to dig his phone out of his pocket.

"So back to the question at hand: how long does this kind of thing usually last? I wanna get to the flea market before the good booths start closing up. If we don't go today, they won't open again until next Saturday. What are you doing?" she asked when he finally managed to pull his phone out with shaky hands.

He dropped it accidentally, then pushed it towards her. "Call...call Ricky..."

"Ricardo?! Fuck that!" Dahlia yelled. "Didn't we just finish having a conversation about never speaking to him again?! Were you even listening to me, Drake?!"

"Please...pl — HUUUUH!" He let go of a sob, then another gasp. "You're yelling..." He was unable to finish his sentence before she snapped on him.

"You're damn right I'm yelling! You're gonna give in that quick?! You're gonna betray me like that by going back to him?! How could you even think about that?! Even after that whole argument, you're still gonna pick him before me — your girlfriend?!"

Drake reached for the phone himself, but Clementine slid it across the floor so that it was far from both of their reaches. The boy's panicking became even worse with this. Dahlia noticed this, rolled her eyes at the inconvenience, then tried to be a little nicer.

"Look, Drake, just stop thinking about all of the other shit. Just focus on me, okay? Look at me." She noticed blood trailing from his neck where he had clawed himself so fervently. "Just think about how great things are gonna be now that you're free from all their negativity. It's just you and me forever. Doesn't that sound good?"

Focusing on Clementine could actually help. On top of his inability to get oxygen, his entire body was in pain. It was mostly in the torso area: his back, his stomach, his shoulders, his ribs. This all made it even harder as time went by. He needed this to be over. He closed his eyes and listened to his girlfriend speak.

"Now we never have to be apart. You'll always have me at your side."

It was a very short-lived sense of security before things started going downhill.

"Of course, you'll have to get a job, which might be a challenge for you. I don't want you to work at some fast-food job. A McDonald's order-taker doesn't belong with a doctor. It's just embarrassing. Not just the wage gap, but when people at work ask me about you and I'll have to tell them you give people McNuggets for a living — I'm wanting to curl up under a rock and die just thinking about it." She shivered. "An office job would be acceptable, though. At least to start out at anyway. I'm just not sure if you would be capable for one of those. You have to be pretty smart. — like with numbers and words and stuff."

This. Was. Not. Helping.

"But that's not your forever job. That's just, like, a filler job until you get your actual job. Have we ever talked about what you wanted to do with your life?"

Believe it or not, they haven't. Clementine and her ideas and plans and thoughts and feelings were the focus of this relationship.

"Well, you'll have to figure it out fast. And then we can get you into school. Wouldn't that be cool? It's a hell of a lot of work, but we could do homework together and, while we do that, we can plan our wedding!" Her eyes glowed at this idea. "Oh, doesn't that sound lovely, Drake?! Even though we said we would marry each other earlier-"

Drake didn't remember this. He was sure she was twisting his words around. Or maybe she just decided for him like she did with everything else. In his current state, he couldn't quite recall.

"-I'm still gonna want a romantic proposal. And a ring — a huge one so everyone can see! We should start looking now. Don't worry. I'll act surprised when you propose." She was so lost in her own fantasy that she didn't notice Drake's hyperventilating getting worse. "Mrs. Drake Parker. Eh. Mrs. Clementine Dahlia Parker. Or should I remove the middle name completely and do that thing where you hyphenate my last name and your last name? I had a teacher like that in high school. I'd be Mrs. Clementine Martin-Parker."

Martin Parker. Honestly, he should've seen the personality resemblance she shared with his father before she put their names together like that. God was probably screaming at him the day he and Clementine met. Her last name had been a sign from the get-go.

"...stop..." Drake tried. Having to ride this out alone in silence, he realized, was better than letting her attempt to calm him.

Unfortunately, Clementine was too excited. "And just think of our future kids! I want six! Three boys and three girls. Like The Brady Bunch! And a cat and a dog."

"Clem..."

He was still hung up on the Martin thing. After she had brought that name to his mind, he realized that this all felt too familiar. It was _that_ night again and his dad was wrapping his fingers around Drake's neck with a smile. It's fucked up that someone could be so excited about ending his own son's life. This was probably Ghost Martin coming to finish the job with his ghost fingers wrapped around Drake's neck and his ghost boner long and hard as he watched his son suffer. He could feel it now. He could feel those strong, unmovable hands, the weight of Martin's body on top of his own, the pain of the man forcing his way inside without even a pathetic attempt at using his own saliva as a lubricant. He was paralyzed like he was pinned down on his stomach. He felt weak, powerless, humiliated, terrified, hopeless, ashamed, confused, angry, repulsive, unworthy, guilty, alone, responsible, unlovable, damaged, scared... He could go on. All of these emotions were debilitating. More often than not, he'd just lay there or stand there and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...and take it...

...until taking it became his norm and losing it left him feeling lost.

"Are you even listening to-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" It was like he had no control. He shoved her away with enough force to send her on her back.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" she exploded, pushing herself up. She balled up her fist and punched him square on the jaw. Dahlia slugged him two more times until he was on his side, pitifully holding his shaking hands up in surrender.

"Please... HUUUH! I can't... I'm scared."

"ASSHOLE!" she yelled as she stood.

"Please, don't leave me. Please, don't go. Please, don't go! PLEASE, DON'T GO!"

She had to use her muscles to get the door open because part of his body was still blocking it. Despite his desperation, she left him. All he could do was lay there, feeling heavy and glued to the floor as if his dad was on top of him, pinning him against the carpet. What made it all the more terrifying was that he couldn't see. Blinded by his tears, he reached out and tried to drag himself towards his cell phone. He couldn't move. His panicking was at an all-time high. He couldn't even call out to Clementine and beg her to come back. He couldn't do anything. He could never do anything and everyone hated him for it. He shouldn't have been the one who had made it out of the house alive that night. What good had it done? His mother hated him. His sister hated him. His step-brother hated him. His step-father hated him. His ex-girlfriend hated him. Both of his ex-girlfriends hated him actually. His best friends — the only two people who hadn't given up on him — now hated him. His girlfriend hated him. He hated himself.

The weight on top of him was growing. It was like he had dozens of heavy, metal chains wrapped around his body and they were squeezing tighter and tighter. He was going to pass out. His toes clenched and his hands folded into fists so tightly that his knuckles were white and his fingernails tore open both of his palms, drawing blood.

Around this time, Clementine entered the room again. "Here, jerk." She pulled him back up into a sitting position. "Open your mouth."

Drake felt her put something — probably pills — into his mouth. She then carefully tilted a water bottle over his quivering lips.

"That'll help." She twisted the cap back onto the bottle and set it nearby in case he wanted more later, then she stood and went back over to the dresser to finish putting on her make-up. "And I expect an apology when your whole meltdown is over." After hearing a knock at the door, she said, "Come in."

Sam entered. She was about to speak, but Drake's loud gasping and sobbing over to her right attracted her attention. "Oh my God! Are you okay?!"

When she got down on her knees in front of him, Clem said, "I wouldn't touch him if I were you."

"Hey, it's okay. Everything will work out in the end. You'll get through this," Samantha soothed. "You know they didn't mean what they said and, when their anger wears off, they'll realize that you didn't either. Friends fight."

"They definitely meant what they said," Clementine interjected. "I know I meant what I said. They're fucking pricks."

Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head. "All you have to do is apologize and ask to redo the conversation in a calmer, kinder manner. They're your best friends. I know they don't hate you. They just got upset — like you — and things got out of hand. This is all mendable, I promise."

"Actually, we decided that Drake's gonna drop them altogether. We're gonna get all his stuff from the house and then that's it. No more contact with Ricardo and Julio."

Samantha snapped at her. "Can you just — you're not helping!" She turned back to Drake. "Let's just focus on breathing, alright?"

The boy nodded his head. Finally, something was helping. Thank God she had walked in.

"In through the nose. Good. Okay. Out through the mouth. That's okay. It'll come. In through the nose. There we go. You're doing great."

It took fifteen minutes of this before Drake really got control of his body. Sam remained calm and patient and respected his boundaries. She showed him a trick that she had learned from her sister, who had dealt with panic attacks on a regular basis when they were both younger. She got a cup of ice and gave him a piece. She told him to focus on the ice cube and to focus on the feelings of pain and discomfort in his hands as he switched it back and forth when it became unbearable. As strange as it sounded, it actually was really helpful.

"How are we doing?" Samantha asked when she came back with a roll of toilet paper in her hand.

"Better," the boy replied. "Thanks."

"Here." She sat down and gave him the roll. "So you can clean up."

Drake knew he was a mess. He felt like he had snot all over himself. All that rapid, frantic breathing made his nose run. He wiped himself off, then grabbed another tissue to blow his nose.

"Another thing you could do is dunk your head in ice cold water," Sam said. "Sometimes, it'll stop a panic attack in its tracks. I would've had you do that, but it didn't really look like you were gonna be moving."

Drake pulled off some more toilet paper and wiped his eyes. "I'll have to remember that."

"So it's over?" Clementine asked. When he nodded his confirmation, she said, "Good, so we can go to the store soon."

"Give him time, Dahlia. Geez. The last thing he needs to do is rush into things."

"My fucking chest hurts," Drake mumbled.

"It should wear off soon."

The young man yawned. He was overcome with exhaustion and fatigue. "I gotta pee."

Samantha stood, then held out her hand and helped him onto his feet. "You alright?" she asked when she noticed how unsteady he was.

"Yeah. My legs just feel a little weird." He stretched, yawned again, then slowly made his way to the bathroom. As he relieved himself, he felt weak, like it was hard to stand. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten up so fast, but he always had to go to the bathroom after panic attacks, so he didn't really have a choice.

Drake sniffled, then let go of his breath. It felt great to be able to breathe again. He yawned and his eyes watered with it. He hadn't realized until now just how sleepy he was. His brain felt fuzzy and he just wanted to lay down. Clem wouldn't be happy about that. He had to push through and go out with her. He couldn't handle anymore confrontation today.

After he was finished, he tucked himself back into his boxers, buttoned his pants, then flushed the toilet. When he turned to make his way over to the sink, his leg gave out, but he managed to catch himself on the sink before hitting the ground. _What the fuck?_ He pulled himself up. After feeling steady enough on his feet, he washed his hands. While looking in the mirror, he found his reflection to be somewhat blurry. He blinked away the cloudiness. Something was definitely not right about this.

He found himself stumbling when he tried to leave the restroom. He balanced himself on surrounding objects, then held up his weight by placing his hand against the wall so that he could open the door. Outside the bathroom door, his legs failed him once again. This time, he had nothing nearby that was adequate enough to catch his fall. He landed on his bottom. Everything around him was spinning and he seemed to be hallucinating. At one point, he could've sworn that he saw his father in the kitchen grabbing a beer out of the refrigerator.

"Fuck..." he whispered to himself.

Sam's distant voice filled his ears. "Whatever, Dahlia. It's just fucking rude is all I'm saying." Then, "Drake, what happened?! Are you okay?!" She was by his side in a second. "What's going on?"

"Something'swrong," he slurred. It was getting hard to hold his own head up. God, and he was so tired!

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong with him?" Clementine asked as she approached. She'd come out of the room upon hearing her friend's exclamation.

"I think I'm dying," was Drake's reply. "It's...hard to breathe."

"What the fuck? I don't know what's happening." Sam looked up at her roommate with fear and confusion.

Just then, the door opened and Brett stepped inside. He had left work early after his girlfriend had called him during the huge fight. "What's going on?" he asked when he saw Drake on the floor, surrounded by the two girls.

"I don't know what happened," Sam said frantically. "He was having a panic attack and then he was fine and now he thinks he's dying."

"...sleepy..."

"Don't go to sleep," Sam said.

Brett got on his knees in front of Drake and pushed the boy's head up to examine him. "Did you take anything?"

"...Clem..."

"I'm right here, baby."

"Did you give him something?" Brett asked.

"I...I just gave him something to help him calm down."

"What did you give him?" the boy demanded.

"Just some of those muscle relaxers in the bathroom cabinet."

"My old ones? How many did you give him."

"Not many," she said.

"How many?!"

"Just a few!"

"Oh my God. You're not supposed to take more than one."

"He was freaking out!" she defended. "I didn't know what to do!"

"It's a muscle relaxant, Dahlia! It takes muscles to breathe!"

"Well, shit, I was just trying to help." She was being genuine and it was obvious that she was filled with fear.

"Drake, can you hear me?" Sam patted his cheek. To her boyfriend, she said, "What's happening?"

"Help me get him up. We've gotta get him to the hospital. Clem, get a bag. I'm gonna try to get him to throw up in the car."

"I didn't know," she was still saying.

Brett and Sam hefted him up and draped Drake's arms across their shoulder. They dragged him outside to Brett's car and put him in the backseat.

"Here. You drive." Brett gave Sam the keys as he got in next to Drake.

Clem came out with two grocery bags layered and passed them to Brett.

"Get in. We have to go now," he said.

"I'm can't. I can't go."

"Dahlia," Sam said incredulously, "he needs you. You're his girlfriend."

"I'll come later. I just can't see him like this," she said. She was actually crying.

"Are you serious?"

"We don't have time for this. Let's just go." Brett closed the door.

Samantha shook her head with disbelief, but she did what her boyfriend said. She put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway so fast that the tires screeched.

* * *

"We're almost there!" Samantha said. She was panicking.

Brett was in the backseat pressing down repeatedly on Drake's chest. "Come on, Drake! Come on!" He leaned forwards and engulfed the boy's lips with his own, then breathed into his mouth.

"How's he doing?"

He didn't tell his girlfriend how blue Drake was turning because he didn't want to freak her out anymore than she did when she had seen him begin to perform CPR. "Just get us there!" He was pouring with sweat — partly because of the energy he had to exert and partly because of his fear. "Wake up, Drake!"

"Shit!" Sam cursed when the light up ahead turned red. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck it!"

Angry car horns filled Brett's ears as they ran through the light. He lost his balance and had to catch himself when the girl swerved out of the way to miss a car. He held Drake's nose and breathed into his mouth again. Suddenly, a loud siren blared.

"Oh, fuck!" Sam exclaimed. "It's a cop!"

"Shit!" Brett cursed. He looked out the windows to check his surroundings and gauge how far they were from the hospital: roughly five or so minutes depending on traffic and the number of red lights that caught them. His friend wasn't going to make it. "Pull over. Maybe they can help."

Dahlia listened to her boyfriend. She turned into the parking lot of what used to be a Mexican restaurant that had been empty and abandoned for a couple years. She put the car in park, then opened the door with her hands up.

Brett blew air into Drake's mouth twice, then pumped his chest. "Come on, Drake," he whispered. He could hear Samantha frantically speaking to the policeman. "Come on. Don't you dare leave us. Come on, God. Don't take him yet. Please, don't take him yet."

Sam opened the back door and the officer leaned inside. "Is he breathing?"

"No."

The man reached for Drake's neck to check for a pulse. "Okay, you guys follow me, alright? Don't stop the CPR." He ran back over to his vehicle while Samantha got back behind the wheel.

"Did he have a pulse?" she asked.

"I don't know. He didn't say."

The officer turned on his sirens and lights, then pulled back out onto the main road.

Sam was right behind him. "We'll be there soon, Drake. Just hang on, okay? You gotta hang on."

She was crying. From the front seat, she could hear her boyfriend whispering prayers when he wasn't breathing into the unconscious boy's lungs. She couldn't make out exactly what he was saying through her noisy sobbing, but she definitely heard several mentions of Jesus' name. Brett grew up in a very religious family and he still valued his relationship with Christ over everything else. He was an avid church-goer. Samantha went with him every Sunday and was working on her own relationship with a God she had never been close to before meeting Brett. She, too, began praying.

"Come on, buddy. Stay with me. Please, stay with me."

They made it in two minutes. They pulled up to the emergency room drop off. The police officer jogged inside for assistance and Sam went with him. Brett stayed back and continued CPR.

"Come on, Drake. Breathe. Just breathe." He was a big ball of nerves and it was a wonder that he was able to hold himself together like he was. "God, don't do this." Now his voice cracked and he could feel a lump growing in his throat due to his frustration and lack of results. "I'm begging you not to do this. Please!" He leaned over to give the young man mouth-to-mouth, but he started weeping and it was impossible to do both. He went back to giving chest compressions. "Breathe," he pleaded. His desperation got the better of him and he slammed his fist as hard as he could against Drake's chest. "FUCKING BREATHE!"

And that's when it happened. Drake drew in a breathe of air. By the sound of it, he was struggling just to do so, but he did it.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you!"

At that moment, Sam ripped the door open. The police officer, along with a male nurse, pulled Drake out and put him on a gurney.

"He started breathing," Brett informed, climbing out of the backseat after them.

"And how many did he take?" came from another nurse.

"We don't know for sure," Sam said. Her eyes moved to Drake and she noticed the blue tint of his skin, which was especially darker around his lips, eyes and fingernails. She felt absolutely sick. She had never seen something like this in real life. She always heard that skin could turn blue, but she never imagined just how blue it could actually get.

"Let's take him back and get him hooked up."

Drake was wheeled away and the officer gave some words of encouragement to the worried couple. They answered his questions about the incident, thanked him, then got back in the car so they could move to an actual parking space.

"You said he was breathing?" Samantha asked fearfully.

"Yeah, he had just started breathing right before everyone showed up." Brett grabbed her trembling hand. "He's gonna be okay, honey." He kissed the top of her hand. "Everything's okay now."

"I told them he had a panic attack and took them to help him calm down and that it wasn't intentional. I didn't want Dahlia to get arrested or anything. I know she didn't mean it and Drake wouldn't want her to get in trouble. She's just as scared as everyone else."

"What the hell was she thinking, though? He almost died. You don't just give someone a bunch of pills when you don't know what the hell they're gonna do. That was fucking stupid."

They found a parking space with ease surprisingly. However, once the car was stopped, they remained still and took a breather.

"God, what a fucking day," Samantha said.

"You did great."

"I was just the driver," she said. "I'm so glad you got home when you did. I don't know what..." She let go of a strangled sob.

"Hey, it's okay." Brett pulled her into a hug and let her rest her head on his chest. "He's gonna be okay."

* * *

Samantha and Brett approached the room number they had been given. They'd had to wait a long, grueling hour before a doctor met them in the waiting room and gave them an update on Drake's current state. Miraculously, he was breathing on his own and had even held a conversation, although extremely short, with the doctor. His memory had been affected, he was still drowsy and he sometimes started slurring his words or talking nonsense, which they were monitoring very carefully, the doctor had assured.

Sam pushed the door open and slowly walked inside. Drake was sleeping. Seeing him this way broke her heart. She went up to him and gently gripped his hand, careful not to disturb the needles and tubes and wires all over him. Brett quietly pulled up a chair for her, then he put his hand on her shoulder for support. At this moment, a cuff around Drake's bicep started to tighten and check his blood pressure. Brett's attention moved to the consistently beeping machine to check the update on his friend's vitals. The sound of the Velcro being strained and the tightness around Drake's arm woke him. He absently reached for the cuff to pull it away.

"Hey, let's leave that on," Brett said, grabbing his hand.

Drake looked at him with confusion, but he obeyed. After a few more moments, the machine beeped in a different way to alert them of the new results: 92/60. This was very low, Brett noticed.

"How are you feeling?" Samantha asked.

"...mmmsleepy..." he mumbled. "...s'goin' on?"

"You're in the hospital," the boy answered.

Drake's forehead creased and his eyes squinted with confusion. He audibly let go of his breath as he reached up and rubbed his heavy eyes. "Mmm..." he groaned.

"Do you remember what happened?"

The young man stretched out his legs as far as they would go, then pulled his blanket up to his neck, hiding his arms underneath. "S'cold..." he whined. He turned his head away from them and closed his eyes tiredly as Brett went over to adjust the thermostat. "Where's Clem?" Drake whispered.

"She's coming," Sam answered. "She'll be here soon."

Drake then said a couple incoherent sentences — something along the line of seeing beer in a refrigerator? Or that they needed to _put_ beer in the refrigerator? Sam also swore she heard him mention his dad moving in, but she wasn't a hundred percent sure. After this, he dozed off again.

Brett heard his girlfriend sniffle. He squatted down next to her and pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into his shoulder. "It's okay," he soothed. "He's okay, see? The pills are gonna wear off and he'll be back to normal in no time."

Sam was able to calm down after a few minutes. It wasn't long before a nurse came in to change Drake's IV bag. This, too, woke him. Again, he looked around with befuddlement and, this time, even fear.

"Clem?"

"She's coming," Sam assured, holding onto his hand tighter.

Drake looked at her like he was just noticing her for the first time. "Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Where's Clem?"

"She's on her way, babe, okay?"

The nurse assured them that his confusion was normal and would wear off. Brett thanked her as she left.

Drake's eyes moved down his body and he noticed the wires and tubes and needles. He weakly sat up and an unbearable pain shot through his chest. "Ahh!" He started to tear at the tape around his IV.

"Drake, stop," Brett demanded. "Hey! Stop," he said strictly as if he was talking to a young, misbehaving child.

Tears welled up in Drake's eyes then. "Where's Clem? What's going on?"

"She'll be here," Sam said.

It was obvious that he was terrified and disoriented and hurting. "I can't see."

"You're just crying," said Brett.

Drake fervently wiped at his eyes and found that he was right. "I don't know what's happening."

"It's okay. You're in the hospital."

"What?" Drake rested his head in his hands in hopes that it would help him get a grip on reality. "I'm dead then?"

"You're not dead."

"Then where's Clem?"

"I'll call her," Samantha offered, pulling out her cell phone.

"Everything's gonna be okay," Brett said. He spoke slowly so that his friend could attempt to wrap his head around things. "You accidentally overdosed on muscle relaxants. Do you remember that?"

"What?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"What? I don't... What?"

"It's okay. It'll come," Brett said. "The pills will wear off soon, then you'll be thinking clearly again."

"I wanna talk to Clementine."

"She's not answering," Sam said.

"Did I try to kill myself again?" Drake asked.

"No, it was an accident," said Brett.

The young man was absolutely puzzled and perplexed. Nothing was making sense in the slightest, which seemed to scare and upset him even more. This, in turn, made him wish his girlfriend was present and it confused him that she hadn't shown up if what Brett and Sam had said was true.

"Why don't you lay back down?" Brett suggested as he gently helped Drake get situated again, "and get some rest? You can go back to sleep and, when you wake up, things will be a lot clearer." He didn't know this for sure, but this is what he was hoping for.

"Ahhh!" Drake squeezed his eyes closed. "My chest hurts!"

"You've got quite a few fractures and two broken ribs."

Brett was heartbroken when he saw his friend let go of a sob due to the pain he was in. CPR often leads to rib-related injuries. Dealing with this was better than its alternative (dying), so unfortunately, it had to be done.

"Something's wrong." Drake whispered because it took too much work to actually speak at a reasonable volume.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything is fine. You're gonna be fine." Brett's voice was soothing enough to calm Drake so that he could actually form coherent questions and put the pieces of the day's events together.

"What am I doing here?"

The young man remained patient with him. "You overdosed on muscle relaxants."

"When?"

"Earlier today."

"Why did I do that?"

"It was an accident."

Sam felt like she could explain this part better since she was there. "You were having a panic attack. Dahlia was trying to help, so she grabbed Brett's old prescription out of the bathroom cabinet and gave you some without realizing, I guess, that you can't take them like you would Advil or Tylenol."

"So she thinks I hate her?"

"I don't know. I think she just freaked out. Everything was so sudden. One minute, you were fine and the next, you collapsed on the floor talking about chest pains and not being able to breathe."

"Because of my panic attack?"

"No, this was right after."

After a moment, Drake said, "I got in a fight with Ricky and Julio."

"That's right." She was glad to see that his memory was coming back to him. "Should I call them?"

"No, don't." All he wanted right now was Clem and one thing he did remember was her strictly forbidding him to speak to the Santos brother ever again. Whether or not he would actually concede to that rule, he didn't want to cause waves now because he just wanted her by his side. "Is she really coming?" he asked pitifully.

Sam made eye contact with her boyfriend before deciding against lying. "I don't know. I haven't talked to her since we left the house, but she did say that she would meet us here later, so I'm sure she'll be here."

Drake was saddened by this news. He curled up on his side as much as possible (which wasn't much) with the back of his head facing his friends. This was a lot to take in and it was making him exhausted on top of the relentless drowsiness he already felt. Although he wanted to wallow in his sadness, he was asleep again within the next sixty seconds.

* * *

The next day, Drake was much more clear-headed. Still, Clementine hadn't arrived despite the fact that he had called and texted on multiple occasions. The doctors told him that he could recover from his rib injuries at home and that they were just keeping him to keep an eye on any changes, which, to him, meant that they wanted him to stay longer so that they would get more money. The joke was on them because he didn't have health insurance or a job. He was fed up with laying in bed all day while his girlfriend was out there somewhere hating herself or hating him. Because of this, he had pulled out his IV and started removing everything he could despite Brett's protests. With their hands being forced, they let him go early after having him sign some forms. Now he was pulling up to the driveway. Clementine's car was here, which meant she was here. The second the vehicle stopped, he got out before Sam could offer a helping hand. He ignored the pain in his chest as he did this. They had told him that he needed to refrain from strenuous activity, but also from laying in bed all day. He also had to do breathing and coughing exercises.

Drake made his way into the house. Once he opened the door to his girlfriend's room, he saw her sitting at her desk trying to read her textbook but looking rather preoccupied.

She turned her head his way. "Drake?"

He closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her upper body. This way, she hugged his waist and didn't accidentally hurt his ribs.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so glad you're okay!" she exclaimed with relief. "I can't believe they let you out so quickly."

"They didn't. I pulled the IV out and told them I was leaving."

"Well, why'd you do that?"

"Because I wanted to be with you."

"You mean you're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad."

"You don't hate me?"

He pulled back and gripped her head in his hands so that she looked into his eyes. "Of course I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"I thought I'd killed you," she said. "It was an accident."

"I know. But I'm okay." When she tightly embraced him, he let out a yelp, which scared her. "My chest is just really sore." He tried to sound normal despite the waves of pain jolting through his torso. "I broke and fractured some ribs. Brett said I stopped breathing on the way to the hospital and he had to do CPR for a few minutes."

"Oh my God." She hugged him much more softer this time. "My poor baby."

He didn't go into detail about how much it hurt to breathe. "It's okay. They said it'll take a month or so to heal, but it'll do it on its own."

She was in school to become a doctor, so she knew that he wasn't being completely honest about how long his recovery would take for her sake. She rested her head on his shoulder and let go of her breath. "I'm so glad you're home. I thought I was gonna lose you."

Drake kissed her hair. "Don't worry, babe. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hey, guys. I managed to get this chapter out much faster than I have been. I just wanted to give a quick shout-out to the guest who reviewed my last chapter. I love that Ricardo is your favorite character. He's a lovely guy. I'm glad that him coming out went over well with at least one person because the idea just came to me one day and I didn't know if I could get away with it, but then the more I thought about it, I didn't know how to not do it because why has he not been dating or anything? Eventually I will get to Mindy and Drake's kid, but so many other things have been going on in the story that it never felt like the right time. I'm glad you like Drake and Julio's openness and jokes and stuff. I'm all about their friendship. Also, I was excited to read that the Dee twist shocked you because I started to feel like it was becoming a bit obvious after Drakardo happened. But anyway, your review was so sweet and I totally appreciate you taking the time to give me feedback on all your thoughts.**

 **So I know I said Kenzly would be back soon, but it's taking longer than I anticipated and it's actually gonna be a while because I've written a few chapters ahead and this story has taken a turn that I wasn't really prepared for. Thanks for sticking with me. I love you all. Please, review. Good night.**


	8. Engaged

_(1 week later)_

"...and furthermore is the solution of a case such as Situation A, but not for Situation B, which requires different specialty tasks to reach the outcome stated earlier." Drake, clearly confused, shook his head and let go of his breath. "Christ, did you get all that?"

Clem was sitting on the bed. She had one of her knees to her chest and was painting her toenail on that foot a light blue color. "Yeah, keep reading."

"That's the end of the chapter," Drake said as he thumbed through the pages ahead. "Situation B is literally an entire chapter by itself."

"Alright, well, I'm almost done anyway," the girl said. "I'm bloody knackered."

Drake was glad that she was stopping here because his chest was really hurting after all that reading. "You wanna nap?"

"No, then my sleep schedule will get all fucked."

The boy turned in the swiveling chair and watched as Dahlia finished off her last foot. He noticed that she had been a lot quieter than normal and they'd had zero arguments this past week. He thought that maybe it was due to the stress of all her homework. "I think you're doing great at all of this school stuff. I know it's really hard. I don't understand any of this shit. You're the smartest person I know and I think you're doing awesome and I'm proud of you."

She forced a smile, which Drake saw through, then she phlegmatically thanked him.

He squinted his eyes at her emotionless demeanor. "Is there something you wanna talk about?"

Dahlia knew that, if she didn't speak up, her boyfriend would convince himself that he had done something wrong and that she hated him. "I think I might change my major."

"What?" This took him by surprise since she had been going to school to be a doctor since before he had met her. "To what?"

"I don't know. Maybe...I don't know."

"Where's this coming from?"

She shrugged. "I guess I'm just tired of how much work I have to put in. I don't know if it's worth all the stress."

The work was tedious as hell, but Drake knew that there was more to this than that. She's already put at least a year of hard work into this. Why give up now?

"Is it because of what happened?" he asked.

She didn't say anything, but once he asked this question, it opened up the floodgates and she started weeping.

"Baby..." He got on his knees in front of her so that he could see her face, which she tried to hide behind her hair. "That wasn't your fault. You didn't know and I'm an adult; I should've had the common sense to look at what I was taking before swallowing them. I was the stupid one, not you. You were just trying to help and I totally appreciate that." He moved his hands from her hips to the sides of her head. He pushed her hair behind her ear with one and used his thumb to brush away the excess strands on the other side of her face. "You know I don't blame you, hun."

"I'm going to school to be a doctor," she choked out between sobs, "but I panic and freeze up the second something goes wrong. If Sam and Brett hadn't have been there, you would've died."

"I don't believe that for a second," Drake said, his voice soft.

"I couldn't even face you in the hospital. I just left you alone," she whined. "All I could think about was losing you and it would've been my fault. And then Ricardo would've had me put in prison for the rest of my life because he hates me and he _should_ hate me. I'm ruining your life."

"No, you're not."

"I am!"

"Baby, I promise you you're not," he swore, enunciating his words in hopes that they would stick. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than here with you. I'd give up everything for you. I love you. I love you so fucking much. All I want is to spend my life making you happy. I know we fight a lot sometimes when we disagree on things, but I see now that you've been right every single time. I haven't spoken to Ricardo or Julio since the blow-up and I'm not going to. I shouldn't have let them talk to you like they did. You told me that they only kept me around out of pity and I should've seen it sooner. I should've listened to you and I'm sorry that I let everything go on as long as it did, but I know what's real now. The only thing that means anything is my love for you and I wanna prove it to you everyday for as long as I live. Look," Drake said, his heart pounding against his chest now, "I know you said you wanted it to be a huge thing and that you wanted a ring-"

Clementine's head jerked up at this and she finally met his eyes.

"-and I'll get that when I get the money because you definitely deserve it. I don't have any of that extravagant, flashy stuff, but what I can offer you is my life."

"Drake-" her voice squeaked.

"I wanna spend every second of my life making you smile. You're the reason it's possible for me to get out of bed every morning. You're my favorite reason to keep on living. You're a reason to stay clean and get my shit together. You're the reason I wanna make something of myself. I only ever wanna make you proud and nothing else matters to me except you. You make me a better person and you're everything I wish I could be. I don't wanna spend another second away from you. I wanna devote my life to you. I wanna be able to call myself your husband and I wanna follow you everywhere and watch you soar and I'll be on my knees worshiping you the whole way for the rest of my life. I wanna be with you forever, babe. So..."

"Oh my God," Dahlia whispered. She was still crying, but for different reasons now."

"Clementine...Clem..." Drake gazed into her eyes. His were sparkling and glistening with tears that he was holding back as he smiled up at her. He moved his hands down to hers and held them, intertwining their fingers together while, coincidentally, he was still on his knees. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

There was no hesitation. Her voice cracked when she squealed, "Yes! Yes, I'll marry you, Drake!"

The young man was grinning from ear to ear and his tears finally fell. He got on his feet and leaned over her, pressing his lips against hers. She wrapped his arms around his neck, holding him close. They stayed like that for several moments. When they pulled apart, Drake rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

Drake gently caressed her soft cheek with his thumb, his breathing heavy despite the pain it caused in his chest. He looked from her eyes down to her pink lips hungrily, then he passionately kissed her again.

* * *

"Can I get y'all anything else?" the waiter, whose name tag read Anthony, asked politely.

The crew (Brett, Samantha, Gemini, Dahlia and Drake) all shook their heads until Brett gave a confirmed, "No, thanks," to their waiter.

"Alright, enjoy your meal and you let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"Okay, so everyone ready to start?" Gem asked. When everybody said they were, he continued. "In case you forgot the rules, _Brett_ -"

"I mean, I can't be the only one here who hasn't seen _The Newlywed Game_. Help me out here, Drake."

"You're on your own, bud."

"-I'm gonna start," said Gemini, "by asking the ladies five questions that the guys have already answered. Girls, you'll write your answers on the dry erase board and show everyone, then we'll see if you matched with your mans. If you both matched, you get a point. The couple with the most points at the end wins and the losing couple — as we earlier agreed — must put on a fashion show wearing your _partner's_ clothes. Be warned: there's, like, a thousand rounds because I didn't know how long to make this game."

"We better win this," said Brett, "because I'm gonna stretch out all of your clothes."

Sam shrugged. "I guess that just means I get a whole new wardrobe."

Everyone laughed at this. Drake reached for the pitcher of beer that was in the middle of the table. Gemini had ordered it. To celebrate Drake's and Clementine's engagement, Samantha and Brett offered to buy everyone's meal at Chili's and Gemini was paying for the alcohol.

"Hey, don't get crazy, alright?" Clem said quietly after tapping Drake's leg.

This was his second beer already and the food had just gotten here. "Okay," he said. He wasn't an alcoholic and he had never really had much of a problem with alcohol, but because of his genetics and his father being who he was, Dahlia worried about him.

"Oh, guys, you write down your answers on your dry erase boards when the girls do. And no cheating by changing your answers. I've got your sheets here to check. Is everyone ready?"

They were in an isolated booth in the corner of the restaurant, which was great. After reading some of the questions earlier, Drake didn't want his shit put on blast for a bunch of strangers to hear. He was sitting by the window, with Clem in between himself and Gemini. Samantha sat across from Drake and next to her boyfriend.

"Okay, let's begin with an easy one. Who's the better cook?"

"And this is just between me and Sammy?" Brett asked. "And theirs is just between them?"

"Right."

"Okay."

After everyone was finished writing, Gem said, "I'll start with Clem. Who did you say was the better cook?"

She held up her board. "Drake."

"Drake, who did you say?"

"I picked myself," he said as he held his up.

"That's one point for your team. Samantha, who did you choose?"

"I chose myself," she said.

"And Brett?"

"I picked her!"

"So we've got a tie." Gemini drew some tally marks so that he could keep up with the scores. "Next question. What is your partner's dream job?" He paused so that they could all write their answers. "Sam, you go first this time."

She flipped her board over. "I said he'd wanna be a pilot."

Brett excitedly showed her his board, which had that exact answer.

"Dahlia?"

"Mine — I was stuck between two. I was thinking film critic, but I went with — I don't know what it's called, but you get to swim with sharks."

"Oh, shit, you're right! How did I forget that?!" Drake exclaimed, showing his board, which read _"astronaut or literally anything else NASA related."_

"Those are some very big dreams, Drake," noticed Gem.

"But do you know how fucking dope it would be to wear official NASA clothes instead of fake NASA clothes from, like, Target?"

"You literally own fake NASA clothes from Target," Brett said.

"Hush your mouth. And like, I would just go to the grocery store with my NASA uniform on and be like, 'Oh, this old thing? No big deal. I just work for the fucking National Aeronautics and Space Administration.'"

"Wow, I'm impressed," Sam said with a laugh. "I did not know that that's what it stood for."

"Take a shot every time Drake says NASA," teased Brett.

"Fuck off," said Drake.

"Question three," Gemini said. "Who usually gets their way? Oh, boy, I bet we can all guess this one. Let's see it, Dahlia."

She chuckled. "Definitely me."

Drake's answer matched hers and Brett and Samantha both said Sam.

Gem shook his head. "Y'all some pathetic, pussy-whipped bastards if I've ever seen any."

"Okay, but look who's playing the game and look who's stuck reading the questions," said Brett.

"Touché, prick. And since we're on the subject — question four: who initiates sexy times most often?"

Both teams got that one correct, with the answers being Drake and Brett. The next question was about the boys' dream vacations. Samantha got her boyfriend's correct when she guessed Hawaii, but Clementine went with London instead of Scotland.

"As we finish off the first round, the score is currently five to three, with Samantha and her boo thang in the lead. Next, I'll be asking the _guys_ this time."

"Can I have some of your macaroni?" Clementine said innocently. She knew he couldn't be mad at that face despite the fact that he had told her twice that she should order some because she _always_ ended up eating his.

Drake swallowed down the Dos Equis (Gem's choice) that was in his mouth and nodded. He honestly wasn't that hungry because the glasses they were drinking out of were fairly big and beer was somewhat filling. He would be surprised if he finished his honey chipotle-tossed chicken fingers.

"Brett, Drake, here is your question: who said _'I love you'_ first?"

Both answered themselves and matched with their girlfriends. They also were correct when they both put themselves down for the louder snorer. However, it was unclear whether they were actually being truthful or just being nice. The two couples earned another point by guessing that both Brett and Clementine controlled the television remote in their respective relationships.

"Would you reveal a deep, dark secret about your spouse for a million dollars?" After giving them time to write their answers, Gemini said, "Drake, you're up."

When he flipped his board over to show that he would, Sam's jaw dropped. "Drake! How could you?!"

"No, she'd literally get pissed if I _didn't_ do it," he explained.

"Yup." She showed her board. "Good job. Bring home that million."

"Well, I guess I got this question wrong," Brett said, revealing that he, too, would tell one of his girlfriend's secrets for the money.

"Brat! You better not!"

"Final question for round two: boys, what grade would you give your ladies in lovemaking?"

Both women assumed that their men would go with A+'s, but that's just because they're both sex-driven guys who would pretty much fuck anything that walked. They were proved correct.

Gemini fake-coughed while saying, "Pussy-whipped," then he went on to announce round three. "Alright, ladies. To which charity is your partner most likely to donate to? And after looking at your answers on these sheets, it looks like none of you actually know the names of any charities."

"I've donated when I've seen people taking up money on the side of the road or the grocery story, but as far as going out of my way to donate to something that would be close to my heart, I haven't done that," admitted Samantha. "But if I were to do that, I'd really have to look into who I'd be giving money to because some charities, even the popular ones, don't divvy up the money well."

"So what do you think Brett said?"

"We've never discussed this kind of thing, so I just wrote _'animal-related charity'_ because that's what I would've donated to."

"I put sex trafficking," the boy said. "My church donates to one, but I don't remember the name."

"Dahl's?" Gem said.

"I didn't know either, so I just went with _'something for physical and sexual abuse.'_ "

 _This just got super uncomfortable super fast._ Drake showed his board. "Drug addiction."

While the host looked down at his paper for the next question, Clem slipped her hand under the table and grabbed his. He could tell that she was hoping that her answer hadn't brought up any negative emotions or bad memories. He leaned forwards and gave her a quick peck on her temple to let her know that he was okay.

"What is the most embarrassing thing they have said or done around you? Dahlia, you're first?"

"I wrote down the time Carter beat you up in the front yard."

"What the fuck? When was that?" Brett asked, looking from one to the other, then back again.

"Like, right after I got clean. Or kinda clean. I relapsed right after, then I got clean." He showed his board. "I put _'the thing I told you the day we made up.'_ "

No one pried further. Besides Gem, everyone knew or could assume that he was referring to the thirty to seventy to "maybe more" guys he had slept with for money because Clementine had surely told the other couple right after he'd admitted it to her.

"Sam?"

"I said-" She was already laughing. "I said our first date when he tried to show off by doing some cool trick on his bike and he face-planted and I had to take him to the hospital."

Everyone else laughed, too, lightening the mood.

"In the end, I still got the girl, so that sounds like a win in my book." He had the same answer.

The next question was _'What word best describes your partner first thing in the morning?'_ Sam called Brett grumpy and they got theirs correct. Drake had been unable to think of anything, so he also went with grumpy (since he and Brett had worked on their questions together beforehand). However, Clementine had written the word _'horny.'_

Drake scoff. "Clem! ...Yeah, you're right."

Next, they were quizzed on their significant other's coffee preferences. Brett liked an excess of cream and sugar while Drake, according to Dahlia, preferred his _'nasty (no cream, no sugar, lukewarm).'_ Both couples matched. For the question _'If he could throw a themed party, what would it be?'_ Sam and Brett matched with _'pool party.'_ Drake, however, said he'd prefer an _It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia_ theme while his fiancée answered with, _'None. He doesn't like parties.'_

"You're right," he said. "I didn't know we could say that, though."

"Time for round four. I need that guy to come back so I can get another pitcher of beer." Gemini searched around the crowded restaurant with his eyes in hopes that he could spot him.

"Well, I have to pee," Clementine said.

"Me, too." Samantha stood. "Watch my purse," she said to Brett before following her friend.

When they were gone, Brett said, "So what the fuck happened with Carter, though?"

"He's just an arrogant douchebag and things got physical. I'm a lover, not a fighter, so obviously, I got my ass handed to me," Drake said. "Me and Julio and this other guy had a gig at our old performance spot and some jerkoff tossed a box of Triple's C's on the stage, then got everyone cheering me on to take them. Clem said it was Carter because he found out she came to see me and was pissed."

"Yeah, she said something about that."

"How are you gentlemen doing?" The waiter asked as he approached.

Drake waited until Gem ordered another pitcher of beer and Anthony left before saying more. "I don't even remember much of what happened afterwards. One second, I was on stage singing and the next, I was in the cold medicine aisle at Walmart."

"Yeah, he just walked off the fucking stage and never came back," Gemini said, sharing his experience since he was there. "I did hear a lot of people talking about it afterwards. I think most of them felt bad. I don't think they realized that you were done with that shit. And honestly, I don't think they even realized that they were doing wrong until you left."

"I don't even like to think about it," Drake said. "It was so embarrassing. I was crying and everything. I was crying in front of all those people. Hell, I was even crying in front of the fucking cashier at Walmart. I was a fucking mess."

"I thought you didn't do it, though," Gemini said.

"I didn't. Ricky ended up talking me through it and he got rid of them. You know what?" Drake put his feet in the seat and gracefully hopped out over Gem so that he wouldn't have to get up again. "I have to pee, too."

Roughly five minutes later, everyone was back in their seat, there was another full pitcher of beer and they were starting round four.

"Okay, here we go. Guys, what's their favorite thing that you wear?"

When it was time to show answers, Drake held up his board. He thought that he had a good shot at getting this answer correct because Clementine often insisted on picking out his day-to-day outfits and there was one she made him wear most often. "I put that blue and black plaid button-up collar thing."

"I put your birthday suit," she said mischievously.

This made Drake laughed. "Oh my God."

"Oh, sweetie, you're blushing," Gemini said when he noticed the boy's cheeks turn a shade of pink.

Drake wiped at his eyes, which were tearing up. It took close to a minute before the group was able to cease their laughter.

"Okay, Brett?"

"I have these really tight skinny jeans that really accentuate my ass. She can't keep her hands off me when I wear them."

"You do! I forgot! Ugh, I put your toe socks."

"My fucking toe socks?!"

More laughter.

"They're cute!" Samantha defended. "They got little crabs and sand and stuff on them. But yeah, I should've said the pants."

"Okay, so the same question, but backwards: which item of clothing do you wear that your partner _hates_?" Gemini asked. "Starting with Brett."

When the answers were written, Brett said, "I said my ridiculously tight — like douchebag tight — work-out shirt."

"No, Brat!" She playfully smacked him with her board before showing her answer. "Your white puffy shirt that makes you look like a pirate!"

"Oh, yeah."

"I've tried throwing it away twice and he's found it both times," she said.

"Alright, Drake, what's your answer?"

"My _'I forget what eight was for'_ tee."

"Yep!" Clementine said, revealing that she had the same answer.

"What's wrong with that?" Sam asked. "It's a Violent Femmes lyric, right?"

"Yeah, that's what he tells everyone when they ask," said Clementine. "But what he doesn't tell people is 1). that song plays in the movie _Purgatory House_ while a girl takes a bunch of pills to kill herself and 2). eight is the — quote, unquote — magic number of Triple C's a beginner has to take in order to feel a high."

"Shit, Drake," said Brett.

"Look, we're gonna get these boys good and drunk," Samantha said to Dahlia, "and we're gonna go home and destroy those fucking shirts once they pass out."

"Don't you dare! That's my favorite shirt!" Drake said. "I hardly even wear it. And you guys just don't understand how freeing it is to be able to walk around with your shirt basically declaring that you're a drug addict right in front of people's faces and they _don't_ judge you for it. It's like an inside joke with myself, except I guess now you all know it, so now I can only use it for comfort when I'm out in public." _Wow, that got pretty personal._ He probably should've kept all that to himself. He hadn't meant to get so worked up, but, like always, he got defensive when it came to Charlie. He relaxed his muscles and sat back against the booth. In a calmer, quieter manner, he said, "I think I'm drunk."

"And that's not the only thing he owns with a hidden Charlie reference in it," Dahlia said. "He's got that hour glass with stars on it that represents both the sixty minutes it takes for the drug to kick in and some hallucination he had several years ago about outer space and 'meeting the lady who holds the planets together.' And that five dollar neon light where you get to create your own shape — he made a head with a brain that says _'See'_ in it. You'd automatically assume just by looking at it that it's saying something about being woke or whatever when it's really just a play on the word _'See,'_ which is actually meant to be a cover-up for the letter _'C'_ in Triple C's. So he's basically saying that he has Charlie on the brain and also that he feels woke on drugs. He didn't tell me that one. I just figured it out because I know how his mind works."

"Christ, Clem, stop telling all my secrets," Drake said softly. He tried to explain himself. "I know it sounds bad to have all these little reminders everywhere that no one else knows about, but it's actually more of, like, a security blanket than a trigger. If these things triggered me, obviously, I wouldn't have them," he assured. "The world looks down on people like me and, even though I'm clean now — and hopefully, for the rest of my life — I'm still a drug addict. It's something I'll always have to deal with and it's part of who I am, so turning on my neon light or using my hourglass or wearing my shirt is me expressing that side of me in a clever way so that I don't face backlash or judgement or ridicule. I don't wanna have to hide one of the biggest parts of me because that's depressing as shit. And even though people still don't actually understand because they don't know what these things in my life are actually representing, _I_ know. I know what it means and I'm not hiding it and bottling it up. It's not my fault if people just assume that it means something else."

Brett was the first one to speak. "Isn't that was Narcotics Anonymous is for? That way, you can be around other people like you who know what you're going through."

"I don't like NA. The last thing I need is to be around a bunch of addicts everyday who are on better, harder drugs. I get manipulative as hell when I wanna use. I'd ruin someone's life to get heroin." At this moment, he had flashbacks to Meelah (who had died because of his addiction), Mindy (who struggled with a meth addiction after he introduced her to the drug) and his mother (who was in a wheelchair). _This is not the time for a fucking episode, Drake. We're not doing this right now. You're fucking engaged. Don't be a party pooper and have a meltdown._ The young man picked up his glass and chugged the rest of his beer while everyone just watched in silent unease. When it was empty, he set his cup down a little louder than he'd meant to. "Okay." Belch. "Next question."

Gemini, ever the party-lover, jumped right back into it as if this serious moment had never happened. "Who is the dominating partner in the bedroom. Drake, we're coming to you first."

His answer was, "It's pretty even, I think."

Clementine's answer matched his and Brett and Samantha both put Brett. For the questions _'Who has a better sense of humor?'_ and _'Who is better at lovemaking?'_ everyone said their partner for both, so no one got those last two points.

They were halfway through the game. Gemini was in the bathroom. Everyone was finished eating with the exception of Drake, who still had a chicken strip and a handful of fries left. Anthony grabbed all the empty plates out of the way. When he asked if Drake was finished, the boy said he was, but Samantha asked if she could have his last chicken finger and Brett snacked on his leftover fries. The newly engaged couple declined dessert although Sam kept pushing them to order some.

"I'm so full," Dahlia said and Drake nodded his agreement. Also, the beer was making her drowsy, so she laid her head on her boyfriend's shoulder.

He ran his fingers through her hair and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "You okay, babe?" The restaurant was pretty noisy and Sam and Brett were having their own conversation, so only his fiancée heard him.

"Yeah. I could go for a kip right about now, though."

He moved his hand down to her back because tousling through her hair could make her fall asleep. "I love you." He kissed her hair.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

He knew what she meant. This was the first time they had really gone out like this since the accident. He'd opted out of taking the pain medications due to his addictive tendencies and Clementine's worries. He had his ups and downs, and luckily, tonight wasn't so bad.

"I'm alright," he said. "Kinda drunk, though. Who's driving home?"

"Brett, I think. He stopped drinking ten minutes ago."

Drake closed his eyes, taking in the scent of her perfume and the warmth of her skin. Sitting there like this with her — his only thoughts were how much he loved her and how absolutely grateful he was that she had taken him back. He wished there was something he could do to show her how much she meant to him. For a moment, he considered taking her to the bathroom and going down on her, but then he realized that sex was always his go-to way of showing appreciation. He didn't want to thank her by giving her an orgasm like he was paying her back for something. This wasn't a transaction and he needed to learn to stop looking at sex that way. Of course, he didn't always view it that way, but sometimes he did. Could you blame him? After Molly? Tad? The truckers? With all three of those, he had traded his body for money or drugs or a combination of both. What about Martin? That one was forced — there was no doubt about that. However, maybe there was a sliver of a transaction being made. Maybe Drake had thought that, by giving him what he had and by staying quiet about it, he could somehow buy his father's love. Fear had a lot to do with it — don't get him wrong — but there had to be more to it than that, right?

 _Martin (Drake's conscience): Do you really think you deserve to be with someone like her?_

 _Drake: Don't start this right now._

 _Martin: You're just using her to give yourself some sense of normality._

 _Drake: I'm not._

 _Martin: You were never normal. You were always a damaged freak._

 _Drake: Drake, don't you dare go down this road right now. I'm serious._

 _Martin: You abandoned her...right, and then you fucked a hundred other men while she laid in bed obsessing over what she had done wrong — what she may have said or didn't say. While she was killing herself worrying about you, you were having the time of your life making a complete mockery of the relationship you had with her. ...What, you have nothing to say? You really think you can do much better than I did in my marriage, Drake? Face it. We're the same person. Look at the path you're on and tell me mine didn't start the same way. Well, except I didn't go out and prostitute myself like you did because I'm not a manwhore. You try and you try and you try to stop it, but everyday, you find that you have become a little more like me._

 _Drake: I'm nothing like you._

 _Martin: I know you see it. I'm not even real, Drake. This is literally you having a conversation with yourself, but projecting your dark thoughts — the fucking truth — to come from me. It's easier to deny when it comes from me, isn't it? But if you had to admit it to yourself, you'd have to believe it, wouldn't you? You made me your fucking conscience, Drake._

 _Drake: No,_ you _made your_ self _my fucking conscience — you with all your bullshit lies you hammered into my brain my entire fucking life!_

 _Martin: Are they lies, though?_

 _Drake: Fuck you!_

 _Martin: Look, all I'm saying is that I think I proved my point._

 _Drake: You making me want to_ fucking _kill myself sometimes!_

 _Martin: Then maybe you should consider doing that._

"I have to go to the restroom," Drake said suddenly. Once he was out of the booth, he walked both as calmly and as quickly as he possibly could. He went into the closest stall to the door, hunched over the toilet and vomited. This gave him great pain, so he clutched his chest.

A voice came from the next stall over. "The fact that I can tell it's you by the sound of you hurling either say a lot about you or it says a lot about me." It was Gemini.

He was caught. He hated getting caught wallowing in sadness and self-pity, especially now: the night of his engagement. His friends had taken them out and here he was spoiling it. He flushed the toilet and, when he exited the stall, Gem was already at the sink washing his hands.

"You okay?" his friend asked.

"Yeah. Too much to drink." Drake went to the neighboring sink and rinsed his hands, then he leaned far over it, scooped some water into his hands, swished it around, then spat it out.

"Too much to drink? What have you had? Four or five beers?" Gem knew better. He knew Drake's tolerance level since the boy had spent a week going out clubbing with him every night. "Come on. Spill."

Drake was patting his face with his wet hands, taking comfort in the coldness of the water. "It's really nothing."

"You having second thoughts?"

"Of course not."

Gem watched his friend dampen the back of his neck. "You having old thoughts?" he said more considerately.

Drake knew Gemini wouldn't stop until he got his answer. Plus, maybe having someone to talk to was a good idea. He needed to stop whatever was starting because he didn't have Ricardo or Julio to calm him later. He let go of his breath and spoke in a more somber voice. "Yeah, I guess."

"Is it the game? Are some of the questions-"

"No, the game's great," Drake said. "Thanks for putting it all together so quickly."

"Then what's up?"

Gemini was a great friend — he truly was — but Drake would be lying if he said he didn't miss being back home, where Ricardo and Julio could usually look at him and just know everything on his mind. It was easier when he didn't have to humble himself and admit these things out loud.

"I don't know. It's really not that serious, I guess." He straightened and turned off the faucet, then grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser. "My mind is just so quick at convincing me of a bunch of bullshit and I don't even have time to process anything before I've flown off the handle." He knew that Gem didn't know how to deal with him when this happened, so he flashed him a fake smile. "I'm really fine now that I've taken a second to just-" He exhaled. "-step back."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. All good."

And he was, or so it seemed. When they went back out to the table, he was laughing and cutting up right along with the rest of them as if his little meltdown in the bathroom hadn't happened.

"Sam, do you have any gum?" Drake asked. He was starting to get self-conscious about whether or not he had vomit breath.

"Oh, yeah." She looked down at her purse, which was in between herself and her boyfriend.

"Are we ready for round five?" Gemini asked.

"Good Lord, there's a lot of rounds," said Brett.

"But it's fun, though." Samantha passed some gum across the table.

"Thanks," said Drake.

"Yeah, but I feel like we're in the lead right now and I don't wanna lose," said Brett. "Are we in the lead?"

"You'll have to wait until the end and see," Gem teased. "Okay. Here's your question: Girls, what were they like on the first date? Sam, you're first."

After everyone wrote down their answers, she revealed hers.

"Dorky?!" Brett exclaimed, earning several laughs. His dry-erase board read _'gentlemanly.'_

"We _just_ discussed you face-planting!" she defended.

"Okay, over to Dahlia," Gem said. "What was your boy toy like on the first date?"

"Horny," she said without hesitation.

"Clem, is that your answer for everything?!" Drake said.

"No, that's _your_ answer for everything," was her reply. "The fuck? You put charming?"

"I got you to come back home with me, didn't I?"

"Wait, so you two started out as, like, a one night stand?" Brett asked. "And now you're getting married. That's so crazy." He said it with fascination rather than judgment.

"Next question. Dahl's, what is Drake's worst habit?"

"Drugs."

Drake groaned.

"You put _'leaving the keys in the ignition?'"_ Her face changed from confusion to acceptance. "Yeah, you _do_ do that a lot, don't you? Over drugs, though?"

"I didn't know we were being so literal," he said.

"Samantha, what's Brett's worst habit?"

"I said _'leaving the toilet seat up.'_ "

"Right!" Drake agreed. "Just the other day, my cat jumped onto my lap and I asked Clem why she was wet. She said she didn't know; she just saw her run out of the bathroom. I think she jumped onto the toilet expecting the seat to be there and it wasn't and she fell in!"

Brett busted out in hysterics. "What?! You never told me that!"

"I think you had just left for church or something. Anyway, Agent Jack Bauer was not happy when I tried to dry her off." He pointed to a long cut on the top of his hand.

"Your cat jumped in the fucking toilet! Aw, man, I wish I could've been there!"

"Rude," Drake said.

"So what did you put?" Gemini asked.

Brett showed his board although he was still stuck on the cat story. "I put _'clipping my toenails on the bed.'_ "

"Oh, yeah," Sam agreed with a face of disgust.

"Next question goes to Samantha. What is the thing your partner's most likely to go to jail for?"

She wrote her answer down, then revealed it once everyone was finished. "I put stealing an airplane for a joyride."

"Oh, see, I just put downloading music illegally."

She gave him a dead stare. "You _would_ put something dumb like that."

He shrugged. "What? I'm a good little Christian boy."

When it was Clementine's turn, she said, "Drugs again."

This time, Drake matched her. When Gem asked the women what their men could improve on during a lovemaking sesh, everyone answered foreplay.

"I mean, he's great at it when he does it," Samantha said. "But then there are times when he's just so impatient like-"

"Like he's just looking for a hole to stick his dick in," Clem finished.

"Exactly. Just last week, we started getting intimate. You know how long the foreplay lasted? Three minutes."

"You think that's bad?" Clem started. "Drake-"

"Okay! Okay," the mentioned boy interrupted. "Do we really need to be talking about this now? Or like...ever?"

Brett, of course, agree, but Gemini didn't. "Let her finish, Drake. I wanna hear the story."

Clementine looked at her fiancé, then said, "No, never mind, I'm not gonna do that to him." As a joke, she leaned closer to Gem and put her hand over one side of her mouth so that Drake couldn't see her lips moving, but he heard her say, "I'll tell you later."

They moved on to the next question. The women were asked what their partners' favorite movies were. Samantha guessed _The Fast and The Furious_ although Brett said _The Rock_ and Clementine put _Trainspotting_ when the answer was actually _Requiem For A Dream_.

"Oh, right," she said. "I forgot about that one. You talk about Trainspotting all the time, though."

"I do," he agreed. "It's definitely a close second."

The next two rounds went something like this:

Gem: Who's the better kisser in your relationship?

Drake: Clem.

Dahlia: Him.

Brett: She is.

Sam: I said you.

Gem: Who is most likely to deal with a spider?

Brett: Me.

Sam: Him.

Drake: I put Clem.

Dahlia: Yup.

Gem: Pussy.

Dahlia: No, he'll deal with it. He'll spend twenty minutes trying to trap it in a bowl so he can take it outside. I'll just walk up and squish it.

Drake: I just had a bad experience once. Sometimes my heart gets too involved.

Sam: I feel like there's a story. I need to hear this story.

Drake: It's really nothing. I was washing my hands in the bathroom, but when I went to dry them off, I noticed a huge ass wasp. Naturally, I noped the fuck out of there and shut the door to trap it, but when I went back to my room, I kept thinking that I needed to do something about it because Ricky and Julio's cousins were over and they had little kids, so I grabbed some bug spray. I went in the bathroom and kept spraying, but this thing just kept flying around and wouldn't die. Right then, it kinda hit me what I was doing and I started thinking that this wasp's kids were gonna wonder where the fuck their dad was when he didn't come home. I start crying and apologizing profusely-

Brett: What the fuck?

Drake: Yeah, I know. Clearly, I have some weird underlying issues. Anyway, so I decide I don't wanna be apart of what I'm doing and I leave again. I go back to obsessing over it in my room and conclude that I need to let it go free if it's still alive. I go back to the bathroom and find it in the sink having a seizure, so I'm just totally fucking upset and pissed at myself. I just stood there for a good minute thinking about what I had done and how this wasp's family is gonna hate me, but then I tell myself I have to put this poor wasp out of his misery because he's suffering. I grab one of Ricky's shoes — because I'm not about to use my own — and I go back in the bathroom and squish it. When I pull the shoe away, it's still convulsing and shit, but now it looks like its legs and wings are broken. I swish it again and put all my weight on it. I don't know how the fuck it was possible, but it's still twitching and I'm full-on crying at this point. Since it's in the sink, I just decide to drown it, so I turn on the faucet and sprinkled some water on top of its head to make sure it didn't just float with it and struggle slowly. The little guy finally died and I just kinda stood there some more and stared at its lifeless body and thinking about what inside me made me slaughter this helpless thing. Finally, I grabbed some toilet paper and tossed it in the trash like his life never meant anything, but I didn't know what else to do with it, then I went in my room and had a whole episode.

Gem: Shit...

Drake: I don't know why you guys are laughing. It was one of the most tragic things I've ever had to go through. I decided from that point on I was never gonna harm another bug out of fear. And I was scared for no reason. Sure, it could've stung me and that would've sucked for a little bit, but I've been through worse, so like, what the fuck was I thinking. A little wasp lost his life and his family stayed up wondering why he hadn't come home.

Brett: That's not how it works, though.

Drake: I Googled what bug spray does to bugs and got a full description of the hell that wasp went through. It's pretty brutal. That whole thing was so traumatic that I had a nightmare about it months later. I dreamed I was at my neighbors selling crack for some reason and I could see the police pull up in my driveway with a Netflix van because I didn't pay my subscription. They somehow saw me through the window and my neighbor told me to stay inside while she spoke to them. Then Ricky pulled up in his car and they arrested him, so I had to go outside and admit that it was me that didn't pay the subscription and not him. This douchebag cop pointed a shotgun at me trying to be all intimidating and I was like 'I'm suicidal. You're gonna have to do something else to scare me.' I wasn't being smug about it or anything. I was honestly trying to help him out. These two other women officers came up and started interrogating me like, 'What happened on the night of blah blah blah when that bee died?' It was a bee instead of a wasp in my dream for some reason. They were going to arrest me because it was illegal to kill bees unless it was in self-defense, so I tell them the story of what happens. Like you assholes, Ricky and Julio thought it was funny as hell, so I knew I could win the cops over, too, by telling it in a comedic, but sincere way. They laughed, too. I stopped after the part where I sprayed it and didn't talk about the suffering it went through. They're like, 'Okay, yeah, the bee was somewhere that it wasn't supposed to be, so that's self-defense.' So they let me off the hook. I became friends with one of the women after that, then I overheard her and the other lady talking about how she was just pretending to be my friend because they were trying to get me to confess to what really happened to the bee.

Sam: I wish the Magic School Bus was real because I need Ms. Frizzle to shrink me so I can spend one day in your brain. It just sounds so fascinating.

Drake: Trust me. It's not.

Gem: Were you high?

Drake: No. It had been a long time since I had last used. None of you have weird dreams like that?

Brett: I've had my fair share of weird dreams, but that's just a whole new level.

Drake: All my dreams are like that. I don't know why.

Sam: After knowing you for about a year, this is my new favorite story of yours.

Drake: Well, I'm glad someone is enjoying my suffering. Anyway, don't kill bugs, kids. It's really rude.

Dahlia: Why are you eyes so watery?

Drake: Because I'm drunk.

Dahlia: Sure.

Gem: Well, now that story time's over... What's your partner's most prized possession or the item they'd save in a fire (apart from you)? I don't even remember where we left off.

Sam: It's their turn.

Gem: Alright. Drake?

Drake: I put her phone.

Dahlia: Yup.

Brett: The dog.

Sam: Coco.

Gem: Who is louder in bed?

Drake: Her.

Dahlia: Me.

Brett: Sammy.

Sam: It's me.

Gem: Which of you is smarter?

Brett: Sam.

Sam: Aw, I put you. You're an electrician. I'm just a waitress at Hooters.

Brett: A waitress at Hooters who watches _Jeopardy_ all the time.

Gem: Drake, what's your answer?

Drake: Definitely Clementine.

Dahlia: I put me.

Gem: That finishes up that round. Only two more to go, you guys, so I hope you're feeling confident with your answers.

Anthony: How's everyone doing over here?

Sam: We're good, thanks.

Anthony: Can I get this last plate out of your way?

Sam: Thanks.

Brett: I'm actually getting kinda hungry again. Babe, you wanna get a dessert to split?

Sam: I'm not sure how much I can eat, but I could go for a couple bites of something sweet. This beer makes me wanna snack.

Brett: Could we get...could we get the molten chocolate cake?

Anthony: Sure.

Brett: You guys want anything?

Drake: Clem?

Dahlia: I could go for some dessert.

Drake: I'm full.

Dahlia: Me and Gemini can share.

Brett: Okay, make that two molten chocolate cakes, please.

Anthony: Okay, I'll bring those right out for you.

Sam: Thanks.

Gem: Okay, next question's for the ladies. Dahlia, what adjective best describes Drake in the bedroom?

Drake: Oh, boy...

Gem: What? You worried about her answer after the foreplay one?

Dahlia: I put experienced.

Drake: I said open-minded because you always wanna try new stuff and I just kinda go with it.

Sam: My answer was hyper.

Brett: Hyper?!

Sam: Well, what did you put?

Brett: Not fucking hyper.

Sam: God-like. Okay, Brat.

Drake: Oof.

Gem: Who usually apologizes first after an argument?

Sam: I put me, but I don't know.

Brett: I wrote me.

Sam: Yeah, I think it's pretty even.

Dahlia: Drake.

Drake: I put myself.

Gem: *cough* Pussy-whipped.

Drake: You're damn right.

Dahlia: That's my man. You tell him.

Gem: Alright, what is one thing your partner does for you that they hate, but they do it because you love it?

Dahlia: He started letting me choke him during sex.

Drake: Christ.

Brett: Pa ha ha!

Sam: Brat!

Brett: Sorry! Sorry! I wasn't expecting that. I'll clean it. Did I spit it on you?

Drake: It's okay. It's just a little.

Brett: I'm sorry. I was shook.

Gem: Well, I need to know. Did you have the same answer?

Drake: I put watching chick flicks.

Dahlia: I thought you loved watching chick flicks.

Drake: I do love watching chick flicks.

She grinned, then kissed him.

Gem: You two make me sick. Sam, what did you write?

Sam: I put that he hates when we have dinner with my mom.

Brett: Hell yeah, that's what I put.

Gem: If he could only have one food for the rest of his life, what would it be? Samantha?

Sam: Steak?

Brett: Yep!

Dahlia: I put chicken tenders because that's literally the only thing he ever orders when we go out somewhere.

Drake: Sour fruit gushers.

Dahlia: Well...bloody hell. How was I supposed to guess that?

Anthony: Alright, here's your dessert. Need anything else?

Brett: No, thank you.

Gem: Okay, ladies. What does your man do to let you know that he's "in the mood?"

Sam: Mmm, this cake is delicious.

Dahlia: He gives me fuck-me eyes.

Drake: I wrote massages.

Brett: You wrote messages.

Drake: Well, fuck.

Dahlia: Yeah, you do that, too. I don't know. It's a range of things. Sometimes he does nice stuff like that, then other times, he's just like "Hey, can we fuck?"

Gem: Classy, Drake.

Sam: Brett starts kissing my neck and snuggling with me.

Brett: I wrote kissing.

Sam: Does that count?

"I'll allow it," said Gemini, "which brings this round to an end. Now for the final round. Guys, I'm asking you the questions. Is everyone ready?" After their confirmation, he read off the first question. "Which of you has the most exes? Brett, we're coming to you."

Both Brett and Samantha wrote down the girl while Clementine and Drake wrote down the boy. Both couples matched for the question 'Which one of you makes the final decision in important matters?" The answers were Dahlia and Brett. Both of the young women answered their significant other when Gemini asked who in their respective relationships acted most like a baby when sick. The boys agreed.

"Here's a doozy. Drake," Gemini said with a smirk, "do you think Dahlia has ever faked an orgasm with you?"

He looked a little embarrassed when he said, "I wrote yes?"

"Really? Why?" Clem asked, flipping her board to show that he was incorrect. "You always get me off or get me close to it before you go in and, if you cum first, you always make sure to finish me off."

"I just didn't wanna come off as cocky and say you didn't and then get proved wrong."

"Okay, Brett, whatcha got?" Gem said.

"I put no."

Samantha was quiet when she turned her board around to show that he was incorrect. After a short moment of letting the news sink in, she said, "It was one time. I was extremely tired that day, but I didn't want you to think it had anything to do with your performance. There was just no way that it was gonna happen."

"Well, shit."

"Alright, everyone. This is it: the final question of the night. Are you ready?" Gem read from the paper. "What song describes your partner in the bedroom? I can tell you right now — for me, sometimes it's like _It's Raining Men_ and then other times it's _Beat It_."

The crew laughed at this.

"So we're going to Brett first. Oh, boy, I can't wait to hear this."

"*I*-" Brett grinned. "-answered the song _Daddy's Home_."

Again, there was more laughter.

"Oof," Drake said.

"She likes to call me Daddy sometimes-"

"Brat!" However, Samatha was laughing. "I put _Feel Good Inc_."

"Gorillaz. Hell yeah!" Drake reached across the table and gave her a high five.

"Judging my answer," Brett mumbled. "Let's see what you put then, Drake."

"Well, I _was_ gonna go with The Beatles classic _Come Together_ -"

Again, everyone erupted.

"- _but_ I know how much Clem likes the band Buckcherry, so I said _Crazy Bitch_."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, showing that her answer matched.

"Hey, you're crazy bitch, but you fuck so good I'm on top of it," Samantha drunkenly sang. "Man, what a throwback."

"So what are the scores?" Brett asked impatiently.

"Hold on," Gem said as he went over the paper.

"That was really fun," Samantha said, to which the newly engaged couple nodded their agreement.

"Taste this, Drake," Clementine said.

"I'm really full."

However, the girl got a forkful of the molten cake and held it up to her fiance's lips, so he accepted.

"Isn't it amazing?"

"It is," he agreed.

"Okay, I got the score. Drake and Dahlia, you received a score of...twenty-two points! Brett and Samantha, your score was...twenty-four points! You're the winners!"

The winning couple cheered and the other clapped for them.

"Which means," Gem continued, "that Drake and Clementine must put on a fashion show modeling each others' clothes. I'm excited for this."

"Let's get more beer on the way," Brett said. "I've sobered up way too much for this."

* * *

Drake awoke when he felt Dahlia scoot out of bed. She was in between himself and Gemini, who was still sleeping peacefully. The girl quickly bolted from the room. Drake had woken up somewhere around five that morning to puke, so he couldn't now, which was unfortunate because he felt nauseous and the only way to get rid of that nausea quick was to hurl his guts out. The young man got out of bed and went into the bathroom, where his fiancée was on her knees in front of the toilet, panting for breath.

"You okay, babe?"

"Does it look like I'm okay?" she snapped.

Drake went for his toothbrush and put some toothpaste on it, then he tiredly plopped down on the edge of the bathtub. While he brushed his teeth with one hand, he gently rubbed Clementine's back with the other.

"I don't feel good," she said.

"I know," said Drake. "I'm sorry." He held her hair back for her when another round came up. After that, he went back to rubbing her back. "Can I make you something to eat? Something greasy. That'll help with the nausea."

"I could go for some nosh. I'm really craving a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit from McDonald's."

"Okay. You wanna come with?"

"No. I feel butterz and I just wanna lay down."

Drake had to search his brain to recall the meaning of "butterz" because it wasn't a word that his fiancée used often. "Babe, you're not ugly. You know I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

She gave him a smile and he helped her back to her room after he finished brushing his teeth. "Just take my wallet. Get everyone something."

"Are your keys in here?"

"Front zipper."

Drake found them. "Can I get you anything before I go? A water, medicine, a trash can?"

"That sounds good."

Drake collected the items, then passed them along. He leaned over Dahlia. "I'll be back soon." The young man kissed her forehead gently. "I love you."

* * *

"Morning," Brett grumbled as he exited his bedroom.

"Good morning," Dahlia replied as she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

A shirtless Brett disappeared into the bathroom. Clementine grabbed her glass and moved over to the couch. She leaned against an armrest and folded her legs up underneath her just as an alert came through on her phone. Well, it was Drake's phone, but he allowed her to set it up so that _her_ phone _also_ received his texts and Facebook messages. Whilst doing that, she had secretly made it so that the alerts were hidden on his phone from certain people that she didn't like him talking to, like Ricardo and Julio for instance. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at it.

 **Ricardo: hey, drake. ive been thinking alot about everything i said during that fight & i feel horrible. u know i didnt mean it, i was just upset about ur decision not to go to a psychologist and i had really gotten my hopes up about it. still that was no reason for me to act the way that i did & im willing to be the first one to admit it because i miss u & i just want to know if ur ok. i promise ill work on pulling back because i know i have to let u work out ur sobriety and ur shit on ur own. i was just trying to help & i guess like i always do i got carried away because i was so worried that something bad would happen because thats what always happens when everything seems to be going normal. anyway, can we grab lunch soon and talk? i love u & i want us to go back to being friends again. yeah so...i guess thats it.**

Dahlia backed out of the message and slid it to the left, then clicked delete.

* * *

Ricardo sighed as he set his phone down. It had been just seconds after he'd sent the message that it was marked as _read_ , yet he'd waited and waited and still didn't see the three small dots pop up to indicate that he was getting a reply.

He picked up the paper in front of himself again. It was a hospital bill dated for just a week ago: the day of the big fight. Due to some of the things listed that Drake was being charged for, it seemed as though drugs were involved and CPR was administered. Ricardo understood this to mean that Drake had probably overdosed and stopped breathing. He sniffled as he read over everything for the fiftieth time.

 _Ding!_

Ricardo had never grabbed his phone so quickly. However, it wasn't Drake.

 **Dee: is tonight the night we finally stop pushing back that datenight?**

He set the phone down. Ever since Drake had left, he hadn't been able to stop thinking and regretting and worrying and his relationship with Dee was being noticeably affected by it. He couldn't help it. Ricky felt so fucking down and stressed that, even when he was with Dee, he wasn't _really_ with Dee. His boyfriend had tried to calm his fears by assuring him that Drake was probably fine. This hospital bill proved otherwise. His best friend probably couldn't handle all of the awful shit Ricky had said to him and decided to fucking end it. If Samantha hadn't have posted on Facebook a picture of herself, Drake and Brett playing some video game together several days ago, Ricardo would've immediately thought upon opening this bill that Drake had died.

Ricardo picked up his phone and opened Facebook. He had recently been blocked by both Dahlia and Drake, which she probably did for him because Drake rarely got on Facebook anyway. He was friends with both Samantha and Brett on the website. He chose to go onto Sam's page since she was the most active on social media out of the two. Sure enough, the first thing that popped up was a group of photos at what looked like Chili's. He scrolled through and noticed Samantha, Brett, Gemini, Dahlia and Drake in the pictures. The caption read: _dinner and The Newlywed Game with my newly engaged besties! [ring emoji] [couple with heart emoji] [wedding emoji]_

Ricardo's heart dropped into his stomach. Drake are Dahlia...are getting married?! He couldn't describe how sick he felt. He had never liked Dahlia, but he'd known that he couldn't force Drake to stop dating her because Drake wasn't a child despite what some of his actions may have you believe. Ricky had always let it go because his friend was going to do what he wanted anyway, but the two boys had been separated for a week and already he had proposed?! _What kind of fucking voodoo mind spell does she have him under?! It took Dahlia less than twenty-four hours to convince Drake to refuse professional help, drop his best friends and move in with her and it took her less than a week to convince him to commit his entire life to her?! It hasn't even been three weeks since they had gotten back together and now they're married?!_ How on earth _does she do it?! She's a straight up fucking sociopath!_ Already, he could see where this would lead. _She is going to break Drake's heart and Drake is going to do what Drake does best when it comes to emotional anguish; he's gonna relapse. He's gonna end up on the streets selling his body for a quick high just so that he can forget about her for a short while._

The worst part was that there was nothing Ricardo could do about it. Trying to convince Drake of this would only push him away more if that was even possible at this point. All he could do was wait for everything to play out, then reconnect to help Drake pick up the pieces once again.

* * *

Just as Drake walked through the front door, Dahlia had finished up her little "project." She had created a new Facebook page under an old e-mail address that she had, but she put her name as Ricardo Santos and used the same profile picture that the actual Ricardo Santos had. She had to take extra precautions to be sure that Drake would avoid his ex best friend at all costs on the off chance that he ran into him in public. Better yet, it was probably best to keep Drake at home, which wouldn't be that hard since he wasn't much for going out like she was.

"You're back!" Clementine jumped up with a smile and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend.

"You feeling any better?" he asked.

"A little. Still pretty nauseous."

He carried the McDonald's sacks into the kitchen and set them on the table.

"Guys, Drake's here with breakfast!" Clem called.

Everyone gravitated towards the table. Despite none of them feeling all too hungry, they were desperate to stop feeling so sick. Either the greasy biscuits and hash browns would help the nausea subside or it would make them vomit, which would also end with the nausea subsiding.

"You don't work today, do you, Gem?" Drake asked.

"No, thank God. I don't think I could make it."

"I'm gonna run to the loo really quick." Clementine made her way to the bathroom, but instead of sitting on the toilet, she pulled out her phone and started typing fervently with a devious smirk on her face. She pressed send as she opened the door and heard a faint _ding!_ on her fiancé's phone over the light chatter emanating from the kitchen. She joined the crew again and listened as if to catch up on their conversation when, really, most of her attention was on Drake.

 **Ricardo Santos: saw ur engagement online. Guess this means our friendship is officially over because i should've been the first person u told u fuckin asshole.**

Drake's voice was filled with more sadness than Dahlia had ever heard when he whispered, "What?" No one heard it but her. Normally, he refrained from texting when he was with others, but he couldn't just drop this and come back to it later. He swiped on the phone screen to unlock his phone so that he could view the full message.

 **Ricardo Santos: i cant believe u actually proposed to that skank but I huess u at least have that trait in common.**

Dahlia saw his eyes water over slightly and feigned innocence. "Everything alright?"

 **Ricardo Santos: all u evr did was go around suckin everyones dicks. Shit u even sucked mine. U 2 were meant for each other. Julio said he would've let u suck his too but he never wants to see u again so have a good life prick!**

"Drake, what's wrong?" Clem asked and the table finally hushed. She took the phone from him and pretended to read. "Blimey. He's a top prat. I told you he was no good for you." She gave him his phone back and could tell that he was doing everything he could to prevent himself from crying. "Don't listen to a word that bellend says. It's pants."

The fact that so many pairs of eyes were on him was making it harder for him to keep his composure. He looked visibly pitiful, like a poor puppy dog who had been kicked and screamed at one too many times. He swallowed, but the lump in his throat only grew bigger. He couldn't stop repeating the words in his head. "Ricardo" had called him a skank and he'd ridiculed him about the sexual encounter they had both shared.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom," Drake excused absently. He left the table, went into the restroom and immediately started puking with so much force that tears stung his eyes.

"What just happened?" Samantha asked with confusion as she looked from the restroom door to Dahlia.

"Ricardo sent him a fucked up text, basically calling Drake a whore. He must've found out about the engagement and he's not happy."

"What? That doesn't sound like him," Gemini said with shock.

"I'm gonna go check on Drake." She made her way into the bathroom, where the boy was leaning over the toilet with his eyes closed, trying hard to regulate his breathing before he started hyperventilating. "Alright, babe?"

"It's just my ribs," he said, which was true although it wasn't the only reason for his tears. However, he felt like less of a man crying over emotional things rather than physical although his fiancée had seen him weep plenty of times before. Also, he couldn't bear to hear Clementine say-

"I told you, Drake. I told you he was like this and did you ever listen?"

His voice cracked when he said, "I'm sorry." He choked out a sob and hid his eyes behind his hair.

"No, you never listened. You always chose to believe him over me. Every time."

"I'm sorry," he said again, now feeling twice as sorry for himself since she was kicking him while he was down. "I shouldn't have doubted you. I just wanted to believe that..." He let go of a strangled sob and his voice trailed off. After a moment, he managed to say, "I trusted him."

"Maybe now you'll learn that I'm the only one you can trust. I'm the only one who has your back. I'm the only person in this entire world who truly loves you. I'm the only one who cares about you. I'm the only one who will accept your baggage." By saying these things, she knew that he would only depend on her more. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and turned his head so that he had to look at her. "I know what's best for you. Don't you see that now?"

He nodded, then cracked out another, "I'm so sorry. I should've listened. You're the only person left in this world who hasn't abandoned me. I know I'm a fucking mess and I'm so grateful that you haven't given up on me, too."

She pet his hair once, then leaned in and gave his forehead a kiss. "You wanna go back in there and finish breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry. I'm gonna go lay down. My chest hurts."

Clementine helped him up, then wiped his tears for him. Drake flushed the toilet, washed his hands, then started to brush his teeth.

"Can I get you anything?" the girl asked when he was finished.

"I'm okay."

She rubbed his bicep for a moment, then said. "Well, let me know if you need anything. I'm gonna finish eating."

Despite how much he wanted his fiancée's company, they went their separate ways. He closed himself in their bedroom and picked up the closest kitten in sight before laying down and pulling the covers on top of him. Macaulay purred as the boy petted her. This made Agent Jack Bauer jealous, so she jumped and planted her claws into the bed sheets, but she just hung there instead of climbing up. Drake leaned over and helped the tiny cat, then allowed them both to snuggle with him.

* * *

Drake awoke with a start when Dahlia's alarm went off. His breath hitched, causing a pain to shoot through his chest.

The girl lazily hit the snooze button, then closed her eyes again. Drake did the same when his ribs stopped giving him too much trouble. Both had dozed back off, then the blaring alarm went off again and got a similar reaction. Six times, Clem hit the snooze button. After the fourth, Drake gave up on sleeping because it wasn't worth the anxiety and pain the alarm would give him. He got up, went to the restroom, then started breakfast so that his fiancée could eat before class.

Clementine soon followed his lead. She trudged out of the bedroom tiredly, went straight to the bathroom, then sat down at the kitchen table just as Drake let go of a yawn. When the food was finished, he made her plate, then set it down in front of her as she looked down at her phone.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked.

"A soda. I need some caffeine to get me going."

Drake gave her a Coke, then sat down across from her. He didn't have anything in front of him because he wasn't hungry and he was hoping that he'd still be able to go back to sleep after she left. He noticed a big smile fill Dahlia's face and curiously asked, "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just one of my friends. By the way, I have study group tonight. We have this huge test coming up, so it'll go on pretty late. You don't have to wait up."

The remainder of breakfast was mostly silent because Dahlia stayed on her phone the entire time despite Drake keeping her company and trying to get in some quality time with her since she was going to be gone all day.

* * *

 **Drive boy, dog boy**

 **Dirty numb angel boy**

 **In the door-**

Drake picked up his phone and saw that it was Rhinestone. So much for wallowing in his sadness alone. He touched the green circle and put his cell up to his ear. "Hello?"

"You bitch."

Drake wasn't offended because Rhinestone spoke to everyone this way. However, he did know that he was in trouble, so he searched his brain for what he could've done wrong. It's probably because he didn't tell him about the engagement personally. Hopefully, he wasn't as pissed as Ricardo had been.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"How come I had to find out that _you're getting married_ on Facebook?!"

"Hey, Rhinestone?"

"What?"

"So I proposed to Clem-"

"No, no, no, it's too late, bitch."

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just pretty new and things have been kinda shit lately."

"You regret proposing?"

"No, it's not that." He wished Rhinestone would go back to being his normal narcissistic self and go on talking about himself for an hour. "Just things between me and Ricky. He found out about the engagement yesterday-"

"Wait, he _found_ out?! You didn't tell Ricardo that you proposed?!"

"Well..."

"Drake!" Rhinestone scolded.

"I didn't think he wanted to talk to me because we had this huge fight last week."

"Really? You and Ricardo?"

"And Julio and Clem. It was...it was bad," Drake said. "I promised Clem that I wouldn't talk to them again."

"Drake Parker, I'm about to hop on a plane and come kick your ass. Why the fuck would you listen to her? They're your best friends!"

"I just feel like...they're not, though," Drake said. "I don't know how to explain it. And then Ricky sent me this rude text yesterday-"

"Because you neglected to tell him that you're getting married!" Rhinestone said with no sympathy.

"Yeah, but still. The things he said were really fucked up — like about my personal shit and insecurities."

"What exactly did he say?"

"I don't...I don't really wanna get into it right now," the boy said.

"Oh, come on, Drake! I tell you all of my shit. Even the bad stuff." This was true. Rhinestone rarely held back. He told Drake about relapsing, cheating...and you can't forget the gonorrhea story.

"I just..." He loved Rhinestone dearly, but it was still hard to trust him after the time he told everyone at the party a few years back that Drake had sucked off his gym coach for an A. He hadn't done anything nearly as vindictive since, but still, Drake was weary about opening up to him too much. Maybe he should. He could use another friend now that he had two to replace.

"When I was on the streets those two months, I started..." What's the most decent way to say this? "...doing things for people...to get money."

"What do you mean?"

God, Drake was regretting this already. He wished he could take back what he had said, but he knew that Rhinestone would continue to hound him about it until he told him. "You know. _Things_."

"I'm not understanding-"

"I was whoring myself out," the boy said quickly. Maybe the faster he said it, the faster Rhinestone could forget that he'd said it.

"Wait, what? Drake, you never told me-"

"I know, but can you blame me?" he asked. "It's embarrassing."

"So Ricardo brought that up?" Rhinestone was shocked.

"Yeah, that was part of it."

"Part of it? What else did he say?"

"Well, he also said something about this time..." Drake could hear Rhinestone's reaction in his head before he even got the words out. He closed his eyes as he admitted, "when we had sex."

"Wait! Wait. A damn. Minute! _What?!"_ Although he was giggling and squealing, he said, "I'm sorry, but _you_ and _Ricardo fucked?!_ "

"This is why I didn't wanna tell you."

"Calm down, Drake. I'm just excited is all." Rhinestone managed to get himself under control. "Motherfucker. I _knew_ it! Didn't I tell you, Drake? I _knew_ that there was some part of you that _loved_ having a penis up your ass. He did give it to _you_ , right?"

Drake didn't even bother trying to explain because it was still a subject that he wasn't completely sure about. "Well, congratulations."

Rhinestone could tell that he was irritated. "Okay, sorry, keep going. No, wait. So he said something about that, too?"

"Yeah."

"That's insane. That really doesn't sound like him."

"I know, but it was," Drake said, "so things are just really fucked up right now."

"You moved in with Dahlia?" After the young man confirmed this, Rhinestone said, "Damn, you never tell me anything."

"Yeah, well..." Drake thought that now he could take the attention off of himself. "So what's new with you?"

"I see what you're doing — and I'm definitely gonna jump back to this because I wanna know all of the gay sex deets — but I do have this story I've been dying to tell you."

* * *

Clementine hadn't been kidding when she'd said that she would be late. It was close to one in the morning and she still wasn't back. Despite being told not to wait up, Drake was still awake and glancing out the living room window with every noise he heard that could sound like her car pulling into the driveway.

He really wanted to see her and hold her in his arms. He needed the comfort. Talking to Rhinestone had put him in a mood, then he'd gotten another vicious message from "Ricardo" that had really upset him. He'd spent a good portion of his day laying in bed, crying, talking himself out of committing suicide, watching his comfort videos, crying more, convincing himself not to relapse and then crying himself to sleep. His nap was interrupted by a nightmare that left him feeling anxious and he didn't want to be alone. Drake had put it off for as long as possible, but it was late and he had started to worry, so he'd sent Clementine a casual message asking how the study group was going. Having never received a response, he texted her again forty minutes later, this time being more direct.

 **Drake: comin home soon?**

He curled up against the armrest with his legs folded up underneath him. He laid his head on his hand and fell asleep this way.

* * *

The low humming of a car was enough to wake an anxiously sleeping Drake. He didn't remember falling asleep. He pushed himself up and glanced out the window, where Clementine was climbing out of her car. The young man picked up his phone. Still no messages, but the time was 4:58. Moments later, Dahlia pushed open the front door and was greeted by an angry Drake.

"What the hell, Clem?" he whispered since Sam and Brett were asleep in their bedroom. "It's five a.m."

She slipped her shoes off. "I told you I'd be late."

"You didn't say you'd be out all night, though."

"We had a lot to do. We lost track of time."

"Doing what?"

She scrunched her eyebrows. "Studying, Drake. I told you this."

"Then why are all your books still here?"

She looked taken aback. "Because I forgot them. Keegan let me use his. What exactly are you insinuating, Drake?"

"It's five a.m. People don't stay out until five a.m. studying."

Dahlia scoffed. "You may never have, which doesn't surprise me due to the fact that you're sitting here on your ass while I'm out there busting mine to make something of myself! You're thick as! You couldn't even get into university if you tried! How dare you sit there and accuse me in _my_ gaff?! You don't pay for shit! All you do is take and take and take! And now you're doing _this_?! Are you taking the piss?!" She wasn't nearly as quiet as he had been.

"Why didn't you answer any of my texts then?"

Clementine reached into her pocket. "Because my bloody phone died!" In her rage, she chucked it at him and it connected with his cheek so hard that it was sure to leave a bruise. "I can't _fucking_ believe you! What kind of person do you think I am?!"

"I think you're lying," he dared meekly.

"You know what? I don't even care. You think whatever the fuck you wanna think. I'm done!" She stormed off towards her room and yelled behind her, "You fucking wanker! Just get the fuck out!"

Drake rubbed his sore cheek for a moment before deciding to follow her. However, when he reached their bedroom, he found that the door was locked.

"Clem, open the door," he said.

"Bugger off!"

"You don't wanna look at me because you know I'm right?" he spat.

"I can't _believe_ you would even _think_ that about me!"

"I smelled his fucking cologne the second you walked through the door!"

"Just fucking go then if you don't trust me!" Seconds later, she heard only silence on the other side of her door. She listened intently for breathing but instead heard the front door slam. _He actually fucking left!_ Dahlia tried to pretend that it didn't bother her. She changed into pajamas quickly because she couldn't wait to get into the bed and forget about this whole ordeal. She went over to her dresser, picked up her hairbrush, then began combing angrily through her hair.

It wasn't long after that she heard her window slide open. Drake hefted himself up, turned so that he was sitting on the windowsill, then started to pull his legs through.

"Get out!" Enraged, she hurled her hairbrush at him and hit him directly on his spine.

He let go of a yelp. Already, this was quite painful enough due to his still-healing ribs. He managed to get his legs through anyway.

"You cheeky fucking cunt!" Clementine shoved him against the wall the second he turned towards her. "Get out! I said get out!"

He could smell alcohol hidden under the obnoxious cologne. "You drink during your fucking study groups, too?!" Drake asked sarcastically. He moved past her so that he wasn't pinned against the wall. "Why can't you just admit it?!"

"Because I didn't do anything! I'm out there trying to make a life for myself — for _us_ — while you just sit around here all day! And who knows what the fuck you're doing?! How do I know _you_ 're not bringing other girls over and fucking them in my bed?! You've proved that you're a slut _and_ a cheater! That's probably why you've been having so much trouble getting it up lately! You get your fill during the day when I'm gone!"

Drake felt embarrassed when she mentioned his recent bout of sexual inadequacy, which wasn't caused by cheating, but rather the fact that, every time he tried to get intimate, his heavy breathing or her touch or some sort of strain would put his focus on his excruciatingly painful ribs, ruining the mood completely.

"You know what?! They're probably not even women! You probably bring a bunch of seventy-year-olds here when I'm not home so they can fucking pile-drive the shit out of you!" She saw that he had no response to this. "That's it, init?! You're bloody gay! Or you just miss having your dad around to-"

"FUCK YOU!"

His audacity infuriated her, so she shoved him backwards as hard as she could. He fell against the dresser, knocking several items onto the floor and smashing his head so hard against the glass that it cracked. Before he had time to focus on the pain, she brought her hand up so fast against his cheek that the slap rang through his ears.

"Don't you _ever_ speak to me like that!" she commanded.

Drake clutched his cheek, where three claw marks were beginning to form welts. The side of his lip was bleeding as well from the hit, but what hurt the most was his rib cage due to being shoved so hard. He blinked away his tears. "Fucking bitch," Drake sputtered with surprise.

Dahlia heard it, though, and she wasn't at all pleased. This time, she balled her hand into a fist, wound it back, then slugged him as hard as she could. Drake lost his balance and fell onto his knees.

"I want you out! I want you out of my fucking gaff!"

The young man positioned himself on his bottom and rested his back against the dresser. His eye was aching and getting darker and darker by the second. At some point, he had bitten the inside of his lip, causing another trail of blood to drip down his chin. He kept having to take in deep breaths, which put a lot of pressure on his ribs. He noisily inhaled, then squeezed his eyelids closed and clenched his teeth. He clutched his chest and struggled to take in another breath.

Suddenly: _Knock! Knock! Knock!_ "Hey, is everything okay in there?" It was Brett.

Dahlia made her way over to the door, then unlocked and opened it. "No. I want Drake _out_."

"Jesus..."

Without any aid, Drake stood, then pushed his way past Brett. He went down the hall and out the front door, but this time, he didn't sneak back in. Before he knew it, he had found himself at Tad's. Luckily (but not surprisingly), Kyle was awake and he answered the door.

"Drake!" he exclaimed. "Long time no see! Where the fuck have you been?!" Kyle pulled him inside the dimly lit living room and closed the door behind him. "Oh my God! Baby, what happened to your face?!"

Finally, Drake's tears fell and he was unable to stop them.

"Oh, honey..." Kyle wrapped his arms around him, but loosened his grip when he noticed that it caused his friend pain. He allowed Drake to rest his forehead against his shoulder. "It's okay, sweetie. Just let it out. Just let it out."

* * *

"Wow, it sounds like you've been busy," Kyle said after hearing about Drake getting clean, getting engaged, then getting separated. He apologized when Drake winced as he dabbed a wet cloth against the dried blood on his lip.

"Does your girl always hit you like that?" Tad asked when he came back into the kitchen with two Tylenols. "Here." He passed them over.

Drake thanked him. "No, she's not normally like that." Despite everything, he still felt the need to cover for her, but maybe it wasn't for Dahlia's sake; maybe it was for his own.

Just like he had when it came to his father, Tad could see through this lie. "Did you come for a re-up?" the man asked. "I'm gonna have to leave soon, but I trust you enough to be here when I get off work if I spot you a few boxes."

"Give him a break," Kyle said. "He just broke up with his fiancée."

Honestly, Drake didn't know what he had come for. Charlie _did_ sound really good right now, though. Maybe that's why he had ended up here. Subconsciously, it was for Charlie. He pulled out his phone when he received a text as he respectfully declined Tad's offer. "I just didn't have anywhere else to go."

 **Ricardo Santos: morning Drake. Was just thinking about how fucking fantastic life is without you around and thought I'd let you know. Pity you'll never know what that feels like. It's bliss.**

"You sure?" Because of Kyle's words, Tad countered, "I'll accept quick road-head since you're so broken up." He was willing to do whatever it took to get Drake back on drugs and back in his bed because he honestly missed him.

Drake swallowed, then looked up at him, one of his eyes black and his other just fine. The fact that he was considering it was disgusting, right? It was starting to not be so clear anymore as his mind began shutting off his emotions. The only thing left was his own surprise when he heard himself meekly say, "Okay."

Kyle fetched the boxes, but Drake knew not to take them until he was finished with Tad because he would for sure vomit them up. He already felt sick just thinking about having to open the packages, taste them on his tongue and feel them clatter their way down his esophagus. Tad led the young man to his car. Drake slipped into the passenger's seat, his eyes empty of anything other than his black pupils, which seemed to swallow the rest of the color whole. Tad cranked the vehicle, but before he pulled out of the driveway, he turned his head to the boy and flashed a big, mischievous smirk. Despite it not actually being that long since he'd last seen his former student, he'd missed the hell out of him. He leaned forwards and Drake followed suit, then their lips connected. Somehow, it wasn't strange at all feeling those familiar lips pressed against his. It was like he had never left. Honestly, this wasn't really all that bad. Honestly...Tad was a better kisser than Clementine. Never would he ever admit that out loud, though. Drake shook the thought from his mind as they pulled apart. Tad grinned again, then put the car in drive and started down the road. Drake mustered up all the saliva that he could (which wasn't hard because the thought of Charlie left him salivating with nausea) as he reached over and unfastened the man's pants. Moments later, there it was right in front of him...and he still felt nothing. The boy wrapped his fingers around the shaft, leaned forwards and parted his lips.

Tad shivered with pleasure, then slowly let go of his breath. "Make sure you take your time, alright? We've got some time before we get to the school."

* * *

He'd spent the rest of that day, that night and most of that following day at the park right outside his father's neighborhood. He'd practically lived here during his recent two months of homelessness and it hardly felt like he had been away at all. Granted, it had only been about a month and a half ago, but still. He could easily pick back up where he'd left off if he wanted.

Did he want to?

He had obsessed over this thought for a long time. It would be so easy to jump back into that familiar lifestyle. The truck stop wasn't too long of a walk from here. He could probably make it in ten minutes. The weather was pretty bipolar at the moment due to the seasons changing from winter to spring, but it was the middle of March. It wouldn't be as cold outside as it always had been when he'd had nowhere else to go. Now that he thought about it, every time he'd been homeless for a long spurt of time, it was always around the chilly wintertime — somewhere between November and February. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad now.

What's the big deal about the weather anyway? He could go back to the truck stop and earn enough cash for another hotel room again, but this time far away from Dev. He knew how things worked now. Besides, the only reason he had gotten sober in the first place was because he had almost died. He'd had a moment of weakness and had agreed to let Mrs. Hayfer take him back to Ricardo's. That could've all been avoided simply by not borrowing money, which he now knew.

Tad had only given him two boxes of Triple C's, which was much appreciated, but it definitely didn't give him the best high due to his tolerance still being what it was. That had only made him crave the drug more. However, it wasn't so easy. He knew that if he made that decision, then his relationship with Clementine was truly over and he definitely didn't want that.

His brain was so quick to make up a bunch of different scenarios in every situation and he was aware of that. When she'd stayed out all night, he'd managed to convince himself that it was because she was cheating on him. The fact that she had come home reeking of alcohol and men's cologne further heightened his paranoia. Now that he had taken a step back and allowed Charlie to take over, he now could see reasons for both of those that didn't result in the idea of his fiancée sleeping with another man. And so what if she had? He was fucking in love with her and he was more than willing to forgive her. Dahlia had forgiven him for abandoning her and fucking what could easily have been a hundred strangers, and he was mad at her because of this? He was a hypocrite.

Losing Clementine not only meant that his heart would be broken, but it meant losing a piece of himself. If he traded her for a life of meaningless, transactional sexual encounters and hallucinatory trips that gradually become less and less enjoyable, he would soon lose his humanity. She was the reason he wanted to better his own life and the reason that he could see slivers of good in himself. Without her, he would become a mindless, drug-fueled zombie — always undignified, always hopeless, always lonely and always craving more.

 _Fuck, I've gotta get her back._ He pushed himself out of his spot underneath the tree with his and Meelah's initials carved into the trunk, then he made his way through the park and towards the road. It would take a while before he reached home, but that was perfectly fine because it would give him plenty of time to figure out what on earth he could possibly say to her to make up for his childish behavior. Maybe a simple apology would suffice? That was unlikely. It was Clem after all. Maybe she'd-

"Drake?"

 _Oh, shit..._

"Drake, hey! Come here!"

"Fuck!" he whispered to himself as he crossed the street, making his way to a gas station — a place that had once been his safe haven. When he had been sleeping at the park a month and a half ago, he had always taken the long way around so that he wouldn't run into his old pal Ahmed. His brain had been racing with so many thoughts just then that he'd forgotten.

"I thought that was you!" He took Drake's hand and shook it. "Wow, it's been years!"

To recap, the last time Drake had seen Ahmed was the night Marcellas had given him the ultimatum of robbing the man's service station or watching his family die. Ahmed, being the kind and gracious Muslim that he was, had managed to talk Drake down despite having a gun shakily pointed at his face, then he had promised not to call the police after seeing the boy's fear and guilt. He was definitely one of the better ones who had come across Drake's path.

"You haven't been by to see me!" He put his hand on Drake's back and guided him into his empty shop. He went straight over to the grill and started putting together a hot dog.

"Yeah, sorry, I just...I thought you hated me," Drake admitted.

Even long after his father's death, Drake was still covered in cuts and bruises, Ahmed noticed. "No, of course I don't. I was worried that something had happened to you. Everything turned out okay, I see."

Not at all, Drake thought, but vocally, he went with, "I'm still alive anyway."

When the store owner held out the hot dog — made just the way the young man had always made his years ago — Drake felt... He couldn't quite put a finger on what he felt. Ahmed had always given him a free hot dog every time he came in because — although Drake was quiet about it — things were obviously rough at home. Ahmed had always seen potential in him despite the fact that he was clearly a drug addict and he'd invested time in him so that Drake knew that someone cared about him.

"Oh, no, I can't-"

"Go on, boy." After Drake accepted the hot dog, Ahmed said, "I prayed for you that night. I still pray for you everyday."

"Really?" To know that he was so cared about by someone who was practically a stranger made his heart feel warm. "Wow, thanks. That's very kind of you." Guilt rose in his chest. "Um, I'm... I guess I never really got to apologize-"

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's not important."

"It is, though," Drake disagreed. "No one else would've given me the second chance that you did. I was way out of line. I deserved to go to prison, but you had mercy on me and I haven't forgotten that."

"I hope no one else got hurt that night?"

"Other than me?" A small smile appeared at the sound of his own dark joke, but it was gone just as fast as it had come. "Well, they did beat my brother up pretty badly, but my step-dad paid them off and I haven't gotten involved with them since."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Come. Sit, sit, sit." He led Drake behind the counter and motioned for him to take a seat in the computer chair in the corner.

Drake was blown away by the trust he had in him. Just a few years ago, Drake had held him up at gunpoint and now he was willingly allowing him to go behind the counter even though the boy knew exactly where his gun was.

"Here." Ahmed grabbed a bottle of water out of his mini fridge and passed it along. Again, he had to force Drake to accept it. "Take it."

"Thank you. You're so nice." He was grateful for both the food and drink because he hadn't had either since dinnertime last night. Charlie's numbness had already worn off and his appetite was growing. He drank the water first, gulping down over half the bottle before starting on his hot dog.

"My, you were thirsty," Ahmed noticed, then he set another water on the counter next to the boy. When a customer came inside to pay for gas, he took her cash and made small talk until the transaction was complete, then gave Drake his attention again. "Are you staying around here still?"

"Not quite. It's a bit of a walk."

"What brings you back?"

"I just needed to clear my head."

"What's troubling you, son?" the man asked with genuine concern.

"My fiancée and I got into an argument and I think...I think we may have broken up."

"Did she do that?" He gestured at the young man's face.

Something about Ahmed — maybe his generosity and understanding — made Drake not want to lie to him. "Yeah, but...she didn't mean to." He truly believed these words and this is what he told himself every time it happened. "Plus, I kinda deserved it."

"You did not lay your hand on her, I hope."

"No, no, nothing like that. I just accused her of something — of cheating — because I let my insecurities get the best of me. Things just didn't feel right."

"How do you mean?"

"Well...I betrayed her and did something really bad a few months ago and somehow she forgave me. It was really bad, but she took me back and I haven't been able to figure out why."

"There's nothing to figure out. Some people know how to forgive quickly."

With this, Drake met his eyes and again thought about how easily Ahmed had forgiven him and how badly things could've gone that night — for himself and for his family — had he not been merciful.

"Yeah. Well, anyway, how are you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks for asking. As you can see, business is still booming." He gestured around the empty station.

Drake cracked a real smile at this and his immediate response was to look at the floor in a shy manner.

"Why must you hide your smile? It is a wonderful gift to the world."

If Drake were being honest, he'd have to admit that he sometimes had no idea what the hell Ahmed was saying. He was full of strange words of wisdom and kindness and it seemed like he was on an entirely different level of understanding than everyone else. Nevertheless, what he had just said sounded like a compliment.

"See, there it is. There's something I never used to see too often. You mustn't hide it, dear boy. A smile can make someone's sun shine that much brighter."

Drake's eyes squinted slightly and he smiled as if Ahmed had just said something strange or suspicious. When he saw that the man was seriously just that positive and happy of a person, he felt touched to know someone like him. "I hope I'm just like you when I get older."

"What, me? I'm just a tired old man working day and night just to make ends meet. No, you have time to go out there and really become someone. You find something you love and you'll never have to work a day in your life. You don't want to be slaving away day and night just to have enough to get by like me."

"I would be satisfied with being just half the man that you are."

"That's very kind of you to say. Thank you."

"So what did you have...six-" Drake squinted his eyes in thought, "...six kids, right? Sorry, I might be remembering wrong-"

"No, no, you are correct."

"How are they? Is that one still writing songs and performing?"

"Oh, yes, but less so now that his wife gave birth again. Twins! And my youngest graduated high school last year and started college on scholarship."

"Wow, that's great," Drake said, genuinely happy for Ahmed.

The two continued going on like this until the afternoon rush hour hit and the gas station became busier. Drake thanked Ahmed for the hot dog and water from earlier.

"Don't mention it, boy. You come back and see me soon, okay?"

"I will," Drake promised and then he was out the door.

He didn't make it far before he noticed a half-smoked cigarette left on the ground. He was desperate for a smoke. Ricardo and Julio were no longer around to pay for his cigarettes and Clementine flat-out refused, so he hadn't had a cigarette in over a week. She hated that he smoked. She was one of those people that fake coughed and gave death glares if you lit up around them. As a smoker, Drake had dealt with that before, but it was different coming from her because he loved her.

However, he felt anxious having to face her after everything that had happened and then for what had taken place even after that. He went back inside, asked to borrow a lighter off of the counter, went outside to light up, set the cigarette down, then returned the lighter.

"Thanks a lot."

"Of course."

"Now I'm off to beg my girlfriend to forgive me."

Ahmed smiled. "Might I suggest some flowers?"

"That's a good idea." He thanked him again, said another goodbye, picked up his cigarette, then started home.

* * *

Dahlia scoffed when she got out of her car and saw the boy waiting on the porch steps eagerly with flowers in his hand. When he saw her approach, he stood.

"Clem-"

"Nuh-uh." She held her hand up as she passed him and climbed up the steps.

"Babe-"

"Nope." She unlocked the front door and slung it closed behind her, but Drake stopped it with his hand and followed her inside.

"I'm an asshole."

"You've got that right."

"I was way out of line and it was wrong of me to accuse you when you were right. I'm the untrustworthy one. I'm the one who has been unfaithful."

Finally, she stopped and turned around, meeting his eyes. Immediately, she could see that he was regretting something pretty big since the boy tended to wear his heart on his sleeve. "What have you done, Drake?"

He gulped, then hung his head because he couldn't look at her. "I-"

"What did you do?!" Dahlia hit his shoulder hard. She already knew what he had done the second he had averted his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, for the lump growing inside of his throat was making it hard to speak.

"What did you do?!" She hit him again, this time hard enough to push him towards the door.

"I was with this guy and-"

"A guy?! You cheat on me with a guy?! Are you fucking gay?!"

"No, I was — it was..." He couldn't even remember how it had happened. After all that time sober, why did he slip? He was getting fucking married! How could he slip?!

"Well?! Let's hear it then!"

This hit had so much anger behind it that it made him drop the flowers. He clutched his throbbing shoulder.

The young man's eyes watered over as he forced himself to admit, "I relapsed."

"Oh, that's just bloody brilliant!" Another punch, which forced him to take another step back. "How could you do this to me _again_?!"

"I know-"

"After everything I've done for you, you fucking cunt!"

"I know. Babe-"

"Don't you 'babe' me!"

"I fucked up. I don't know why I did it, but after I sobered up, that was it. I didn't do it again," he assured. "This is the last time, I swear."

She chuckled angrily. "That line again."

"I know. I know I say it a lot, but I mean it. I swear on my life."

"Even if I did believe you, that doesn't change the fact that you shagged some creepy old man for drugs!"

"He wasn't-" Drake realized mid-sentence that this part didn't matter as much as everything else, so his voice got quieter. "...that old."

"Really?!" The fact that he was bothering to correct her about such a trivial thing irritated her.

"He didn't fuck me. I just did oral, which I know isn't any better, but-"

"You left so you could put someone's dirty cock in your mouth?! Did you swallow his little sperm babies, too?!"

He was humiliated. "Don't say it like that."

She was pissed that he had the audacity to tell her what to do, so she hit his shoulder in the same spot again. "How am I supposed to say it?! Did he shoot his spunk into your mouth?! Did you swallow it down like you've been trudging through the desert without a drop to drink?! Did you clean him off with your tongue as if you couldn't get enough?!"

Drake kept his head down. It took everything he had to keep his tears from falling.

"HUH?!"

Punch. With this hit, he fell against the table by the front door that the residents drop mail, keys and such down on. A small glass bowl fell onto the carpet, but luckily, it didn't break. Drake remained sitting, leaving him roughly an inch or so shorter than her. He swallowed, but still, the lump in his throat was growing bigger and bigger. His voice cracked when he whispered, "I'm so ashamed."

"And rightly so! You know what you are, Drake?! You're bloody pathetic!"

"I know."

"I swear I fucking hate you!"

With those words, a tear finally escaped. "I'm really, really sorry, babe."

"My life was so great before I met you! It was simple and drama-free! Now everyday is something different and it drives me bloody mad being with a cock-up like you! I just wanna yank out my hair!"

Drake reached his hand up and wiped his eyes so that she wouldn't see a tear fall onto the carpet and know that he was crying. However, this gave it away just as well and so did his shaky voice when he said, "I'm so sorry. I can be better, I swear. I'll do better. I'll do anything you want. Please, don't leave me."

"How could you expect me to stay?!"

This time, he audibly let go of a strangled sob, then rubbed his hand through his hair. After a moment, he gripped her hands and finally met her eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry," he said, his voice cracking a couple octaves higher. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You're right. I fuck everything up and everyone hates me for it and they all leave and it's my fault. I've hurt everyone I've ever cared about and I don't deserve you. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again, but I'm begging you to stay. I know I can never make it up to you, but I'll do anything to try. I love you more than anyone and I hate myself for betraying you. My dad was right about me. I'm a worthless, cock-sucking slut. I'm a piece of shit and I'm so, so fucking sorry. Please, _please_ , don't go."

"You know no one else in this entire world would put up with your shit, right?" Dahlia said. "And if we break up, you're gonna be alone forever."

"I know. Please, I'm really sorry."

"And you think sorry undoes everything you did?"

"Clem, please. I swear on everything that I'll never ever ever do that ever again."

"How am I supposed to trust you?"

"You can trust me." His hands moved to her cheeks as he pleaded with her. "You can trust me."

"But how?"

"Just tell me how I can prove it. I'll do anything."

Dahlia stared him down for several seconds until she could see that she had Drake so scared and anxious that he was sweating. He wore the most pitiful expression on his face, but it wasn't a guilt tactic; he was just _that_ ashamed and terrified. If she said no, he'd be alone; if he was alone, he'd be lost. He didn't think he could handle losing anyone else. At only twenty-one years of age, he had already lost so many people: both parents, a step-parent, two siblings, a girlfriend, a kinda sorta not-so-much girlfriend and three best friends (although cutting ties with Kenzly had been more of a choice than a repercussion). Losing one more person could just as well be what it took to finally push him over the edge.

Finally, Dahlia stopped making him suffer through the anticipation. Her voice came out strict and hard. "Fine. Under three conditions."

Drake was so relieved when he heard those words that she could physically see his muscles loosen. "Anything."

"Besides the obvious 'don't cheat on me again' and 'don't relapse again,' I want you to take off the password on your phone."

Just to prove how serious he was about this, he pulled out his phone and did it immediately right in front of her.

"I also don't want you to talk to Ricardo and Julio anymore."

"I already wasn't," the young man said.

"I know, but I don't want you to start going behind my back later when you begin to feel like the fight wasn't that big of a deal. All they do is try to break us up. I'm your fiancée. I want you to be one hundred percent committed to me and only me."

"I am. I won't talk to them."

"And lastly — although I might add more later and you have to be okay with that — I don't want you leaving the house unless I'm with you," she said. "Not until I feel like I can trust you."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay. Done."

She let go of her breath, then said, "Okay."

Finally, he stood and he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight despite the pain in his chest. "God, I'm really so sorry."

"I forgive you."

He went to kiss her, but she blocked it with her hand. "Nuh-uh. I'm sure you haven't brushed your teeth since you had a dick in your mouth. We'll kiss after," she said. "And you need a shower. Your clothes are filthy. Where did you sleep last night?"

Drake avoided her question by pulling away and picking up the flowers she had knocked out of his hand. "I got you these."

She accepted them and, after closer inspection, said, "Drake! You picked these out of the neighbor's yard!"

"I didn't think you'd notice."

"You didn't think I'd notice? I was the one she yelled out for five minutes straight when your cat got out and started digging up her flowers."

He shrugged innocently. It was so adorable that it brought a smile up on her face.

"Cheeky bastard."

* * *

Dahlia sat criss-cross applesauce on her side of the bed. She had a textbook in her lap and was reading it with concentration. Drake was laying sideways on the bed so that his head was right in front of the girl. He stayed quiet, which he had been doing for roughly an hour now. He didn't mind. He was just glad to be in her presence. Being here and watching her reminded him of what he'd almost lost. He was gently sliding his fingers up and down her thigh and marveling in the way she bit her lip with concentration.

Drake — being the depressed Negative Nancy that he was — couldn't my stop thinking about what he had done now that the initial relief and excitement of being forgiven has worn off. He replayed yesterday's events over and over in his head and it still didn't make sense. Of all the places he had chosen to go after their fight, he had ended up at Tad's. Sure, he considered Kyle to be a friend, but he had other friends, too — friends that didn't live with Drake's drug supplier — like Gemini and Sawyer. Both would've comforted him sufficiently, so again, why Tad's? There was a reason for it. Either he went there to spite Clementine or he'd subconsciously known that he was going to use. Probably even a mixture of both. What he realized now was how incredibly reckless his behavior had been. Was he always like this?

He thought about how brokenhearted he would've been if his accusations had turned out to be correct. He would've been so devastated that things probably would've turned out a hundred times worse than they had. He would've lost it. He would've ended up strung out and on the streets again. Somehow, though, his fiancée had forgiven him for his betrayal. If it would've been her who had cheated, he probably would've ruined his life. However, it was himself that had cheated and here he was, allowed back in her bed as if nothing had happened. Dahlia was so forgiving and kind and he felt horrible for what he had done. He didn't deserve her mercy.

The young man's eyes watered over, but he refused to cry. The last thing Clementine should have to put up with was another one of his random and unnecessary episodes. He scooted closer and kissed her knee, which was the closest part of her body to him.

"You're so beautiful," he said quietly.

It had come out of nowhere and it made her smile. She leaned forwards and pressed her lips against his.

"I love you so much," he said again.

Dahlia could see that he was craving her attention, but was refusing to ask for it because he knew that she didn't owe him anything after what he had done. She closed her book and set it on the nightstand, then laid down next to the boy and allowed him to take her in his arms. She rested her head next to his chest and listened to his heart beating.

"Your clothes you were wearing before your shower were really dirty. You didn't stay with a friend while you were away?"

"I just wanted to be alone to clear by head," was his better way of saying that he'd slept outside.

"How are your ribs doing then? I imagine sleeping on the hard ground wasn't good for them."

"They're doing much better."

She knew that he wasn't being completely truthful because he didn't want her feeling guilty about her almost-deadly mistake. "Babe?"

His eyes were closed as he reveled in their closeness. "Yeah?"

"About me staying out until five — I wasn't studying. Well, I was. For a while," she said, "but then my mates were talking about taking a break and having some drinks to relax. That's why I was so late. We finished studying around midnight, then we went out to the club. I was gonna invite you, but my mates...well, you know..."

"They hate me."

"It's not that they _hate_ you. They just...strongly dislike you."

Drake already knew this, but that didn't make hearing it again any less hurtful. "I don't get why. I've only hung out with them, like, twice and I wasn't too weird or too quiet or too obnoxious or anything."

"I know, babe. It's just, you know, they're going to school to be doctors. They just think on a different level and they like to discuss and debate things that you couldn't even begin to comprehend. They're in university and you...well, you never finished high school."

Drake understood. Basically, he was too dumb for them.

"Anyway, that's why you could smell alcohol and cologne on me the other morning. Keegan accidentally spilled his drink on me a little, then he let me spray some of his cologne to cover up the scent. I just didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get upset about not being invited."

"It's okay," Drake said. "I don't want you to not hang out with your friends because of me. Sam and Brett like me and that's enough. Besides, it's good that you have somewhere to take a break from me when I get annoying."

She let out a chuckle at this.

"I'm sorry I acted the way that I did. It was childish and embarrassing."

"We all have our moments," the girl said.

"I don't know what came over me. I just get so paranoid when things in my life are going okay and then I just mess it all up."

"You do that a lot, don't you?" She smiled.

"I don't know why I'm like this."

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't mess things up somehow, but you know I can't stay mad at you. You're too adorable when you know you're in trouble."

Although Drake tried against it, he grinned. "That was the most backhanded compliment-"

Dahlia laughed. "Shut up."

Backhanded compliments were the only kinds of compliments that she ever gave him, but he'd learned to love them anyway. Depending on his mood, he could shrug off and joke about the negative side or he would obsess over and sulk about it. Right now, he laughed it off.

"So I've been thinking about a date for the wedding," the girl said. "I really like July."

"Of next year?"

"No, silly."

Drake looked at her. He already felt his anxiety growing. "That's less than four months away."

"I know. I'm just ready for things to be official!" she said with excitement.

"That's...that's really soon." His lack of enthusiasm showed in his voice.

"You don't wanna marry me anymore?"

"No, of course I do. Just-"

"Just not anytime soon."

"No, I do. I'd marry you right now if I could, but I know that's not what _you_ want. I don't wanna make the date too soon because I won't have any money. I can't even get a job until my ribs heal, which will be at least another month. I just want time to save up so I can give you the dream wedding you want. It's your special day and you deserve for it to be exactly as you pictured it when you were a kid."

"It's _our_ special day."

"Yeah, but I'm just content with being with you. I just want you to be happy."

"That's sweet," she said. "I think I just wanted to do it fast because I didn't wanna give you time to relapse again," Dahlia admitted, "and I thought that if you had a wife to consider, then you would be better at denying those urges."

"I'll be better," Drake promised. "I'm not going anywhere." He kissed the top of her hair. "I hate that you worry about me."

"I hate that you make me worry."

"I'm sorry. I'm really trying."

"I know."

Being with Clementine was like being on an emotional roller coaster. One minute, things are great and he could see the beauty in life; the next, he's back to feeling guilty and indebted to her. Sometimes he felt as though he would never be enough for her and that spending so much time trying was a waste when she could be out there finding someone who could actually give her everything she wanted.

Dahlia pushed herself up when she heard her phone alert her of an incoming text message. She grabbed it and read as Drake rubbed her back. "Sam's asking if we've thought about supper."

"She texted you when she's, like, twenty feet away?"

"She's probably exhausted. They've been in bed all day. You know what that means."

Drake pushed himself up. "That I'm getting stuck with dinner duty again?" He planted soft kisses on the crook of her neck.

"I wish we could have a day like that — a day where we just stay in bed. No responsibilities, no social interactions with people, no clothes. Just Netflix, shags, cuddles and kips on repeat."

Drake wanted that more than anything — probably even more than she did. His last orgasm had been the night before the big fight. That was almost two weeks ago. They had tried plenty of times since, but the young man had a hard time keeping it up when all he could focus on was the pain in his chest. Sex leads to heavy breathing, which leads to immense pain. Even now, just sitting there inhaling and exhaling was uncomfortable, but at least manageable. He always tried his best to hide it because he didn't want Dahlia to feel guilty and get upset, but he was dying for a fuck, even just a quickie. It even hurt too much to masturbate. At least, it had last time he'd tried. That was about a week ago. Maybe he could get through it now. Masturbating together is kinda hot.

"I'm willing to try again," Drake said.

"No, I don't want to cause you any pain."

"Whether I do it or don't do it, either way, I'm in pain," he reasoned. "Might as well get something out of it."

She smiled at his willingness. "Maybe later. Let's figure out what we're gonna eat."

He was still kissing her neck. In between doing that, he asked, "What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't know. I hate thinking about supper."

"Is the fish still in there?"

"Yeah. That will be okay."

"I can make fries to go with them."

"But I think I want a jacket potato instead."

"Okay." Drake wrapped his arms around her from behind since he knew that they were about to separate.

"And aubergine."

"Okay." The young man gave her one last kiss on her shoulder, then got out of bed and made his way down the hall. Next to the kitchen was Sam and Brett's room. He knocked. "You guys okay with the tilapia?" he called through the door.

After a short moment, Brett said, "Yeah."

"Fries or baked potato?"

"Baked potato for me, please," said Samantha politely.

"I'll take fries."

"Hold on," the girl said. "I'll be out in a minute. I'll help you cook."

Drake went ahead and got started by pulling everything out that he needed. In the middle of doing that, he heard his phone go off. It was sitting on the counter, so while he washed his hands, he looked over at the lit up screen.

 **Ricardo Santos: can't believe ur too much of a pussy to respond back to me. Or are u...**

Drake had to swipe to open his phone so that he could view the full message. He dried off his hands, then picked up the cell.

 **Ricardo Santos: ...just scared cause u know I can kick ur ass just like ur dad did? That's probably it. U were even too chicken shit to stand up for ur own gf when I called her a manipulative sociopath. How she's still w someone like u amazes me bcuz trust me ur dick isn't that special. & even much less so since half the fuckin population has gotten to play w it. can't believe I ever let u get near me with that filthy diseased thing. I'm gonna throw up just thinking about it**

And as if Clementine hadn't already done enough...

 **Ricardo Santos: [nauseated emoji] [nauseated emoji] [vomiting emoji] [vomiting emoji]**

Drake's eyes were wet as he read and reread the hateful message. Never had Ricardo ever been so pissed at him. Ricky's hit him before, but that was a long time ago when he'd first learned about Drake prostituting himself to his old gym coach. He's also raised his voice at him, but again, that was an incredibly, incredibly long time ago if you didn't count their recent fight. Even though he had done all of this, never had he ever viciously attacked his character, his actions and his body like he had been doing lately. It was so unlike him. Drake had always respected Ricardo's opinions over everybody's and now this was Ricardo's opinion of him. Well, if this proved one thing, it's that Dahlia was right all along about the kind of person Ricky truly was and how he really felt about Drake.

"Alright, I'm ready," came from behind him.

Draw quickly turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket. He wiped his eyes and sniffled to hide any evidence revealing that he'd been close to weeping.

"Hey, you okay?" Samantha asked with concern.

"Yeah, just..." He let go of his breath. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Who was that?" she asked. "On the phone?"

"No one."

"Was it Ricardo again? Did he say something?"

"Uh..." He debated on whether or not he should tell her, but he knew she already knew anyway. "Yeah, but...it's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

"Well, it is, okay?! Jesus! Can you mind your own fucking business, please?!"

Samantha was taken aback by this because he had never snapped on her before. He didn't often snap on anyone, so she was speechless.

Drake sighed. "Fuck. Shit, I'm sorry, Sam." He turned around to face her. "I'm sorry. I'm just..." Stressed? Upset? Confused? Depressed? None of these seemed like a sufficient enough excuse. "I'm sorry. I don't know...why I said that."

She shook her head. "It's okay. I was being nosy."

"You're not, though. I appreciate that you care. I...I'm an asshole."

"Well..." Samantha smiled. "Maybe a little. You can make it up to me by handling the fish because I hate touching raw meat."

Drake chuckled. "I can do that."

Samantha went over to the sink and started washing her hands. "Who all is eating baked potatoes?"

* * *

 _(2 weeks later)_

"Oh my God! Brat!" Samantha giggled flirtatiously. "You're so annoying! Stop!"

"Well, stop hogging the popcorn."

"I haven't even pressed play yet. You're gonna eat it all before the movie starts!"

The boy pulled her against himself and wrapped his arms around her, then playfully dug his head into the crook of her neck, tickling her with his lips.

"Stop!" She laughed.

 _Knock! Knock!_

"Come in." Brett pulled away while his girlfriend reached over and grabbed the bowl of popcorn and remote controller.

Drake opened their bedroom door. "Hey, sorry, have either of you heard from Clem by chance?" He was clearly distressed.

"No, why?" Brett asked.

The young man shook his head. "Nothing."

"Seriously, what's up?"

"It's fine. She just — she said she'd be home three hours ago and now she's not answering my texts."

This kind of thing had been happening a lot recently. Today, she had gone to an amusement park. Since her friends hated Drake, he wasn't invited. He didn't want her to go, but he also didn't want to be _that_ guy. He was still treading a thin line with her and he didn't want to create waves. However, she was gone almost everyday. If it wasn't school, then it was study group. If not that, then she was going out with her future doctor friends while Drake was stuck at home alone. He missed her dearly. He felt like he hardly spent any time with her and everything was going wrong. He was still getting daily vicious texts from Ricardo, each one digging deeper and deeper, but he had no one to comfort him. On top of that, his depression was at an all-time high. Thoughts of relapsing or committing suicide were constantly infiltrating his brain and it was getting harder and harder to talk himself out of it. He needed her here. She didn't even have to do anything. Just her presence alone would be enough.

"They probably just lost track of time," Samantha said. "It's an amusement park after all."

"Yeah, but, shit, she's gone all the time and I never get invited to anything and I don't know why they all hate me and why I'm not good enough for her." His voice actually cracked with those last words. Embarrassed, he hung his head. He was _so fucking tired_ of crying all the time.

"Babe! You are good enough!" Samantha got out of bed and went over to him so that she could pull him into a hug.

"I don't think she wants to marry me anymore."

"Of course she does," Brett assured. "You know what? She's probably just a little frightened about the upcoming changes that come with getting married."

"Right," Samantha agreed. "It's a huge mental shift into adulthood. Also, you're living together now and that's a big thing in itself. Seeing each other all day everyday can get annoying. Sometimes, Brett and I need time away from each other, so I'll go out and have a girls' night and he'll hang out with the boys. Like Brett said, she's probably just a little scared of getting married because, a lot of times, you lose your friends. Plus, it comes with new responsibilities."

"I guess you're right," Drake said. "I'm just so tired of being stuck in this house. I haven't been anywhere in weeks and it just gets hard to breathe sometimes. I haven't had a cigarette in forever, I can't have sex and Clem will be pissed if she finds out I've been taking the pain meds behind her back. I'm just so stressed and I feel so alone."

"You're not alone," Samantha said. "Me and Brett are always here for you."

"I know." Suddenly, Drake felt guilty. "Sorry, I don't mean to make either of you feel like you're not good enough." He knew that feeling himself all too well.

"We don't," said Brett. "We know you love us, but it's different from what you and Dahlia share. If the house was on fire — God forbid — you'd save Dahlia over us. Just like I'd save Sammy."

The girl chimed in. "Except I'm a strong, independent woman who doesn't need a man to save her."

"Well, fuck you then. You can burn."

Samantha scoffed. This exchange made Drake chuckle. God, why were they so perfect?

"Look, I'm sure she'll be home soon," Sam said. "Why don't you hang with us until then? We're about to watch _Mean Girls_."

"Nah, I don't wanna intrude-"

"You're not intruding."

"It's okay. Thanks for the invite, though."

Brett tossed his popcorn at him after quoting this classic line from the film: "Boo, you whore!"

"No, really, my chest is hurting. I think I'm just gonna lay down."

Brett said another line, but in a higher-pitched, bitchy kind of way. "I can't go out tonight." He fake coughed. "I'm sick."

"It sounds like you've already seen this movie one too many times," said Drake.

"I'm sorry that people are so jealous of me, but I can't help it that I'm popular."

"It's one of his favorites," Samantha explained. "Just in case it wasn't obvious."

Brett clutched his nipples. "It's like I have ESPN or something. My breasts can always tell when it's going to rain."

"Alright, I'm done with you guys."

"You can't sit with us!" the boy continued.

Drake shook his head, completely at a loss for words. Even after the door was closed behind him, he heard Brett yell at him.

"Your mom's chest hair!"

* * *

"Blimey! I'm bloody knackered!" Dahlia said with an exhale when she stepped through the front door.

Drake had been waiting for her and approached her to give her a greeting kiss, which she ended early by holding up her bag.

"Take this, will you, babe? I need to rinse."

The young man pushed away his first question, which was why she was so late, and instead asked, "How was it?"

"Oh, a blast! And it wasn't too busy, so we didn't have to stand in a lot of lines."

"That's good." After she got her shoes off, Drake tried to pull her into a hug, but she refused it.

"Not now, babe. I need a shower. I'm minging."

Drake went to the bathroom with her and sat on the toilet so that she could gush about her exciting day. Not once did she ask how he was, how his day had gone or what he had done. He didn't have anything interesting to tell her anyway. He'd moped around the bedroom, had two long depression episodes that took up the span of most of the day and cried quite a bit. He was so tired of being stuck in this house that he wanted to pull out his hair. There was nothing to do other than obsess over the thought of Dahlia hating him. This had been the ball and chain that had kept the young man tied to his bed for the past couple weeks. Almost everyday, he would lay there staring at the empty space next to him. This made him feel alone and you should never feel alone when you're getting married. He had pondered how much longer he would be on house arrest. That depended on how long it took for her to trust him again. Drake was always leery and suspicious of others and it took him a while before he actually felt like he could trust someone: weeks, months, years even sometimes. He hoped Dahlia wasn't the same.

"Babe, can you make me a cheese toasty? I want nosh, but I wanna fall into bed the second I get out of here."

"Yeah." Drake stood and headed off to the kitchen, where he began gathering the needed items. He realized that he hadn't eaten all day due to his wallowing and whining and such, so he decided to make himself a grilled cheese as well.

Soon, Dahlia had gotten out of the shower, the grilled cheeses had been eaten and the couple was in bed. Drake spooned her for a while until she told him that she wasn't comfortable, so he backed away and left her alone.

Hours went by and Drake found himself still awake. He turned his head and looked at his peacefully resting fiancée. He was losing her, he just knew it. He had to do something. He had to win back her affection.

* * *

When Clementine awoke, she found that the spot next to her was empty. On her way to the bathroom, she saw Drake in the kitchen. After relieving herself and brushing her teeth, she joined her fiancé. "Mmm, it smells scrumptious."

Drake hadn't slept and it showed. "It's almost ready."

The girl sat down at the table and started going through her phone. "Have Samantha and Brett left for church already?"

"Yeah. Just a little while ago actually."

"Pity, they're gonna miss out on this breakfast."

Soon, Drake laid a palette of food on the table. As Dahlia looked at it all, she smiled. "This is excellent, Drake."

Next, he brought two long, slender candles over and set them down in the middle of the table. He lit them, gave his fiancée a kiss, then sat down in the chair next to her.

"What's it all for?" she questioned.

"No reason. I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

"That's sweet. I've never had a romantic candlelit _breakfast_ before."

Drake gave her a smile as he reached down and took her hand. He brought it back up and planted a soft kiss on her skin. "I love you."

"Aw, babe..." She leaned towards him and pressed their lips together, then grinned and brushed his hair out of his face. "You're too adorable."

He gave her one last gentle peck on her nose before picking up the half-gallon of orange juice and pouring some in her glass. "Shall we?" he said, allowing her to begin grabbing the food first.

* * *

"I'm stuffed." Dahlia sat back in her chair with an exhale. "That was most delightful, Drake. Thank you."

"Anything for my queen," he said. "I'll clean this up if you wanna get dressed. I was thinking we could go for a walk. It's really nice outside-"

"Oh..."

"You don't wanna do that? We could just hang here or-"

"Well...actually..." She pressed her teeth together like it was an awkward situation. "Some of my mates are supposed to come over. We've gotta cram."

Drake took a sharp breath, let it go and averted his eyes so that she couldn't see his disappointment. "Oh."

"I'm sorry. See, I was gonna quit, but you pushed me to keep going after my dream to become a doctor. Unfortunately, it takes up a lot of my time and energy." She knew that, by saying this, he could only blame himself.

"I know. I just miss you."

"You miss me? Babe, I haven't gone anywhere." On the contrary, she had been everywhere. And everywhere without him. "Perhaps another time?"

"Yeah, another time." He forced a smile despite the pit of despair he felt growing in his stomach.

She stood, hunched over, gave him a kiss, then went to fetch something to wear. Drake sat there for a moment, welcoming the dark, self-hating thoughts. He looked over everything he had cooked, desperately wishing that there had been something wrong with the food so that he could blame the fact that she was consistently distancing herself on the breakfast rather than on himself. However, everything was perfect — everything except him. Depressed and defeated, he lazily stood and began clearing the table by first blowing out the candles.

* * *

"I wish Drake would've come to church with us," Samantha said as she flipped on the blinker, then turned onto another street. "He's been really depressed lately and it doesn't help that Dahlia's always ditching him for her friends."

"I don't know if he's getting sick or just didn't sleep or what, but he didn't look too good this morning," Brett said as he absently scrolled through his phone.

"I noticed that, too," the girl said. "You don't think he's using again, do you?"

Brett sighed and thought for a moment. "I wanna say no, but I don't know enough about Triple C's to tell. I really don't think he would be gutsy enough to relapse and stay, though. Last time, he disappeared for two months because he was too ashamed to get help."

"I don't like to meddle in other people's business and all, but...do you think I should talk to Dahlia? She's completely neglecting him right now when he's most fragile and he's still getting used to sobriety again. I'm really worried about him and I don't want anything to happen."

"I don't know. You know Dahlia. She does whatever the hell she wants to do."

"I mean, we've known each other for a few years now and we've always gotten along, but... I hate to say it, but she treats Drake like shit. I constantly hear her put him down," Samantha said, "and he always sticks up for her. Remember that time when she was swamped with schoolwork and Drake offered to help and she said some rude comment about how she'd flunk the class then?"

"I remember. You and I both looked at each other — just completely shocked. I think he saw that because then he tried to stick up for her by agreeing with her."

"And that day he had that panic attack — I've never in my life seen someone be so fucking insensitive," said Sam. "I walked in there and she was just applying her make-up while he was having a meltdown on the floor. When I tried to calm him down, she kept saying a bunch of stuff that would freak him out more. And did you see those bruises? I think she hit him. I mean, I know she's hit him before despite what he says because I've seen the marks, but she hit him while he was having a panic attack and that's extra fucked up."

"I know," Brett agreed. "The other week when we heard them arguing and I finally went in there, Drake was on the floor bleeding and crying. He's got broken fucking ribs, for Christ's sake, and she's the reason for that and she's gonna treat him like that? I mean, yeah, he accused her of cheating, but still. Hitting him was so uncalled for." There was a pause, then he added, "And to be honest, I _do_ think she's cheating on him."

"You do?"

"I don't know what excuse she gave him, but it must've been a damn good one because I heard Drake say she came in smelling like alcohol and cologne. Plus, she's always gone and shows back up way later than she says she will," the boy said. "You think Dahlia's telling the truth?"

"I don't know. I hope she is, but it was like she became some different person after she met Drake. Or, I don't know, I think she's like this anytime she's with a guy, but Drake's the only one who lets her do it because of his past. She walks all over him and he's so in love with her that he's too scared to say anything."

She turned the car onto the street that they lived on. Without a word, they both knew to end the conversation here and chat about something else.

"I'm so ready to get out of these heels."

Still not looking up from his phone, Brett said, "Why didn't you wear your tennis shoes? Aren't those too small?"

"Yeah, but I had an excuse to dress up today and these are my only heels."

"You can change into something more comfortable when we get home and then we can go to the thrift store later to see if we can find you some new ones." He wasn't being cheap; it was actually his girlfriend who preferred the excitement of finding bargains. "Maybe see if Drake and Dahlia wanna go. I know Drake's dying to get out of the house."

"That sounds like fun! Now that I think about it, we haven't all gone out since their anniversary dinner."

Soon they were back home. The second they were inside, Samantha removed her heels and allowed her feet to breathe with relief. Dahlia and Drake were sitting together on the couch watching _Teen Mom_ (her choice).

"Hey, guys," Samantha greeted.

"Hey," Dahlia said kindly while the boy offered a smile. "How was the service?"

"It was great," she said. "Brat and I were gonna hit some thrift stores. Did you guys wanna come?"

"My mates are coming to study in an hour."

The couple then looked at Drake. Clementine, too, looked at Drake and, with that look, he knew his answer.

"I think I'm just gonna hang back here. Thanks, though."

"Well, okay," Samantha said sadly. "I'm gonna go change, babe."

Samantha went to her room, Drake to his when he heard his phone ring, and Brett to the kitchen to make himself and his girlfriend a quick little something before their shopping trip. When he was finished, he carried one of his sandwiches with him down the hall and into the room that the other couple shared. When he opened the door, Drake was no longer on the phone. Instead, he was just pacing as if he had been expecting Brett to come in.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Drake brushed off quickly. "Sawyer was asking me for the name of this movie on Netflix I told him he should watch."

"Oh." Brett pulled a small box out of his pocket, then tossed it to the boy, who caught it.

"How much was it?" It was an over-the-counter version of Viagra. His breakfast hadn't been good enough at attracting Dahlia's attention, so Drake was going to give her what he knew she wanted: sex. No matter how fucking painful it was, he was gonna get her off.

"Don't worry about it."

"I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"It's fine," Brett said, biting his sandwich.

"Seriously, I owe you." Drake hid the box under his side of the mattress so that Dahlia wouldn't find it. "I'm sorry I asked you to do this. I'm so embarrassed and I wasn't even the one who had to approach a cashier with it."

"Hey, no one's perfect when it comes to sex...as our ladies were so quick to point out during that Newlywed Game."

This made Drake crack a grin out of one side of his mouth, which he shyly hid by looking down at the floor. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks for doing this. The last few weeks have just been...kinda rough. I know you probably didn't wanna hear about all of my personal intimacy issues earlier."

"No, it's cool, bro. I'm always willing to listen to anything that's on your mind, as I'm sure you'd do for me."

"Always."

"Okay, I'm ready." Samantha peered around the door frame. "Brett, was that my sandwich on the counter in there?"

"Yeah."

She then moved her full body into the door frame to reveal that she was already holding the sandwich. "Good, because I already ate half of it."

"I guess we're gonna head out. You sure you don't wanna come?" Brett asked.

"Oh, no, thanks. Have fun, though."

* * *

Drake's eyes sparkled and a small smile played on his lips when he swiped to the next photo in one of his private albums on Facebook. It was of Meelah and was taken after Drake had gotten out of the hospital and recovered that first time his father had put him in there. The young man had been pushing her in one of the swings at their favorite abandoned park and, when she had reached her highest point, she'd snapped a quick selfie of herself, with Drake in the background. Her smile was so vibrant and contagious that he even let go of a quiet chuckle, then a sniffle. He stared at the photo for a minute, reliving that special moment in his mind. He could remember how perfect the weather had been that day. Summer was nearing its end and autumn was approaching. Therefore, it hadn't been too hot and it hadn't been too cold. She looked so happy. _He_ looked so happy. You'd never be able to tell that inside both of them lived a raging addict clawing to get out. Meelah had died just days after this photo was taken.

He swiped and was met by a picture of them at the Bob Dylan concert, where they had met. It was taken from behind and had a bit of a distance. Julio must've taken it. The sun had been setting, so it was just Drake's and Meelah's silhouette against the orange and pink sky. That was the first time he had taken Triple C's and they had made him incredibly sick. Despite all of that, it was one of the greatest days of his life.

Next was another snapshot of the couple, taken through a reflection in a mirror. Here, Meelah wore one of the boy's band shirts and some light pink panties. Drake was behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist as he nibbled at her earlobe.

 ***FLASHBACK***

"Stop," Meelah giggled. "Look! You made my picture blurry!"

"It kinda fits the mood, though, doesn't it?" He was referring to their Triple C high, which would blur their vision anyway. "It gives it that extra bit of special."

She was into photography, but only as an amateur hobby, and what Drake had said made a lot of sense to her — probably because she was a little bit high. "You feel it yet?"

"Getting there. You?"

She only smiled, then pushed him back onto the bed. As he sat on the edge, she straddled him and pressed her numb, tingling lips against his. "I love you," she said when she pulled away.

"I love you."

She brushed her hand through his bangs. "Come paint with me."

Before she could get up, Drake flipped her onto her back and got on top of her. Meelah giggled as he buried his face into the crook of her neck and softly kissed her skin. Breathe Carolina's "Edge Of Heaven" began playing in the background.

 **I can't hold back**  
 **My hands won't let me**  
 **It's the touch of your skin**  
 **Is it lust or envy?**  
 **Is it lust or envy?**

This was the song. This was _the_ ultimate Charlie song. During your high, you can feel this song physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. Most songs only give you one of these reactions and are nowhere near as intense as this song is when you're high on Triple C's. It's like you're living and breathing this one song. It's like you can actually feel each note vibrating and pulsating through your body. It's like an orgasm for your ears, for your mind and for your soul.

Meelah placed her palms on either side of the boy's head and lifted it. Already, she missed the feeling of his lips on her skin. "You wanna take another box? Get really fucked up?"

Drake stood, held out his hand, then pulled her onto her feet. She went over to her purse and grabbed out two more boxes, then tossed one to her boyfriend. They both picked up a pair of scissors from the nightstand (she had two for moments such as these) and they started cutting open the tiny red pills.

 **I can't hold back**  
 **My pride won't let me**  
 **I'm seeing red**  
 **This is all too deadly**  
 **This is all too deadly**

Within the next thirty or so minutes, both were tripping pretty hard. They were cuddling on the bed, enjoying each other's company. They spoke quietly over the music so that Meelah's parents wouldn't catch a sixteen-year-old boy in their seventeen-year-old daughter's room. It was hard to hear one another's distant, fading voice due to the Triple C's, but being high together could make it easy to read the other's mind, so they weren't missing much. Both spoke about deep, intense secrets. Drake was always free to talk about any physical and sexual abuse (the latter being new to him at this time) and how it was confusing him and he was comforted knowing that Meelah would never judge him and would never tell anyone without his permission. He trusted her with everything.

In the middle of her talking, Meelah lifted her hand up towards the ceiling as if she were reaching out for something. Drake wondered if she was hallucinating the same thing that he was. Probably not. He was stuck in a time portal that shot him into the past so that he could watch Oasis perform live.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said suddenly.

Drake looked at her, then gave her a kiss on the cheek as he pulled her even closer to him. " _You_ 're beautiful," he whispered into her ear.

 **Fallout, one more taste**  
 **One last time**  
 **I just can't help it**  
 **Fallout, I need it all**  
 **Hangin' from the edge of heaven**  
 **All seven, all seven**  
 **Fallout, I need it all**  
 **Hangin' from the edge of heaven**

 ***END FLASHBACK***

"The fuck is this then?!" came Clementine's voice from behind him.

"Nothing."

Drake quickly clicked to shut off his phone and he started to put it away as he turned to her. She managed to grab it away from him and she slid the phone to unlock it. Since he'd removed the password due to one of her ultimatums, it opened right up and was still on the page that he'd left off on.

"What the fuck?!" she screamed as she scrolled through the album. "Why were you looking at pictures of your ex?! And ones where you're half-dressed and snogging with her?!"

"It's not what it looks like-"

"What, were you getting ready to jerk off to it?! Is that why you can't get it up with me?!"

"No!" Drake said with embarrassment. "No, I was just-"

"Just what?! I just forgave you for cheating on me and now you're doing this?! You're supposed to be committed to _me_ and only _me_!"

"I am! I swear!"

"This doesn't look like it!" She held up his phone, which now displayed a photo of himself kissing Meelah. It was obvious by the way the corners of his lips were turned up in the picture that he was laughing joyfully as he did so.

Drake didn't know how to respond to that. Now he could kind of understand why she was so angry, but Meelah was the first person he had ever loved and he would never not feel that way towards her. It didn't mean he loved Dahlia any less.

"I can't believe you. And it's a private album?!" she noticed. "You were trying to keep it from me!"

"I wasn't."

"Then why have you never showed me?!"

"Because it's in the past."

"Well, clearly, it's not! You're still bloody gawking over them, you fucking knobhead!"

"Baby-" Drake tried as he stepped closer.

She shoved him back enough to make him stumble over his feet, but he caught himself. "Don't you fucking 'baby' me!"

The young man felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest, but he tried to hide it. Unfortunately, his eyes watered over.

"Lousy sod! Why is it so hard for you to stay faithful?!"

"It really wasn't like that-"

"Oh, don't mug me! That's pants and you know it!" she spat. "Otherwise, why would you be acting so dodgy when I caught you?! Look at you! You've got collywobbles, don't you!?"

"Let me just explai-"

"You can go ahead and try! I'll be deleting these photos in the meantime! I swear down-"

"Don't!"

"-Drake, if you do something like this again, we're _done_! Big man ting!"

"Don't! Clem, don't, okay?! I'm sorry!" He was crying now when he thought about all of his and Meelah's photos being gone forever. Without them, he'd slowly start to forget about her. It was already hard enough sometimes to remember her voice and he might've forgotten had it not been for the video she took of them hiking through some woods to reach the waterfalls at High Falls.

Clementine shoved his hand away when he tried to take his phone back. She quickly pressed the button to edit the album, clicked delete, then confirmed it. In a second, every single picture of Meelah disappeared. She tossed his phone onto the bed. "They're gone," she announced and, in one swift, sudden motion, she brought her hand up and smacked him as hard as she could.

Drake tried to blink away the tears as he kept his head low and clutched his stinging cheek. The hit was so forceful that he could feel his brain dragging him back into those old memories of being back at his father's house. Those familiar feelings of always doing something wrong no matter how hard he tried were coming back up. Despite everything he had done for Clementine, he still came up short. He still wasn't good enough. What was the point in even trying anymore? Everyone hated him. Nothing he did could change that. Why was he bothering with her anymore? Why was he bothering with anyone anymore? He just needed to fucking end it.

 _Ding dong!_

"That's my mates," Clementine said as she went over to her desk and gathered up some books. "Try to keep your fucking dick in your pants, will ya? Or is that gonna be too hard? Better yet, maybe you should just stay in here until they're gone, yeah?" As she was leaving, she mumbled the words, "I'm engaged to a bloody sket," under her breath.

When she was gone, Drake sniffled. Although Dahlia's words had sounded like a suggestion, he knew that there would be even more hell to pay if he didn't do what she wanted. It was like he was a thirteen-year-old again and was grounded and stuck in his room. Already, he had felt claustrophobic because he'd been unable to leave the house for the past couple weeks. Now his cage was even smaller. Sure, it was just for a few hours, but still. It was already getting harder to breathe. It felt tinier than the closet his dad used to lock him in and the walls continued to grow even smaller. He curled up in the bed and lifted the comforter over his head as an attempt to hide from the world. Although he tried to get control of himself, he failed and he was back at his dad's.

 ***FLASHBACK***

"Megan, you play out here for a few minutes, okay, sweetie? I'm gonna get Drake ready to go to his friend's."

The thirteen-year-old's bicep was grabbed roughly and he was yanked towards the front door. Martin was moving briskly, so Drake was struggling to keep up due to how much smaller his legs were. His father held his arm up so high as he dragged him that the boy was almost lifted off the ground. He shoved the front door open and then closed it behind them.

Once inside, Drake tried begging. "Please, Daddy, don't lock me in there this time! I'll be a good boy!" He was already crying.

"Shut up!" the man hissed.

"Please, Daddy-"

"Shut the fuck up!" he commanded, violently jerking his son's arm to cause the boy pain.

The child tripped over his own feet at the speed that they were walking, but Martin caught him and yanked him back up. "Ow!"

"Shut your fucking mouth and stop whining, stupid little shit!"

Drake's sobbing got harder as he was pulled into his father's bedroom, then the bathroom. "Daddy..." he choked.

"Get in there. GET IN THERE!"

"Ahh!" he yelled when he was slung into the small closet, then again when the door was slammed on his foot. "Aahhh!"

Mr. Parker kicked him so that he'd pull his leg inside, then he shut the door.

"Daddy, please," the boy choked as he heard the lock clicking into place on the opposite side of the door.

"Shut up!"

He didn't understand. When Megan called him 'Daddy,' he did everything for her. It was like some magic word, but unfortunately, it only worked for her.

"Please, I'll stay outside the whole weekend. You won't have to see me until it's time to go back home."

"I said SHUT UP!" He banged his palm on the door, which made the boy flinch.

Despite knowing that this meant Mr. Parker was ready to get physical, Drake was desperate. "Dad..." he choked, resting his forehead on the door. When he heard the man unlocking the padlock, his ears perked up. Although he had begged to be released, he knew that that's not why his father was opening the door. "No. No, please! No!"

Martin was in front of him again. Although Drake tried pressing himself against the corner, the man still grabbed him with ease. He yanked him out of the closet, then shoved him towards his bedroom. "You wanna go outside?"

"Yes, please," the child said. He was actually surprised that he was being given the option. Staying outside wasn't so bad. Even if it rained, it would be better than this.

"Alright then. Go out back and pick out a switch, then you bring it back to me."

His heart fell into his stomach. "No, please."

Mr. Parker backhanded him so hard that he fell onto his bottom. He looked down at his son, who gazed up at him fearfully. "GO! OUTSIDE! AND BRING ME! A GODDAMN SWITCH!" He kicked the boy towards the door to get him started.

Drake pushed himself out of the floor and ran out of the bathroom. Martin followed behind him. The boy was already in the back yard by the time he made it.

"Nuh-uh. You better find a good one. You don't want me to come out there and pick one myself, do you?"

The child looked absolutely pitiful when he trudged up the porch steps with a switch his father approved of. He was already sobbing so much that he could hardly breathe and snot dripped out of both of his nostrils. "Please, sir. I'm sorry I disobeyed," he tried as he was led back into the man's bathroom.

"Take them off."

Drake knew the drill. He turned around towards the bathtub, then he pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, revealing scars that were still present from last week's lashing. Martin didn't hesitate. Within nanoseconds, he went in on him, whooping him with the thin stick. The child howled and hollered. Just moments before each hit, he could hear the whistle of wind. He was hit all over his bottom and down the backs of both legs. Welts grew on top of other welts and he couldn't think about anything but the pain.

"Stop it! Please!" he begged through his tears. The boy moved his hands back there to cover himself from anymore whippings.

This infuriated the man, so he shoved him forwards, forcing Drake to fall. His front half landed inside of the empty tub while his legs were on the outside. His bottom was high in the air so that it was easier for the switch to make direct contact. To ensure that the boy couldn't get up, Martin put one foot inside the tub and pressed it against the top of his son's spine.

"You're breaking my back!" the boy squealed with pain as he squeezed his eyes closed. His dad's foot pressing down on him, squishing him against the tub, also made it hard for him to breathe.

Another full minute went by before Martin had broken the switch in half. He yanked the child up, then tossed him onto the tiled floor. Drake was bawling and he was bleeding all down his bottom and his legs. He trembled as he lay helplessly at the feet of the raging man.

"Get in there."

He started to drag himself across the floor, but when he went to bend his knees so that he could crawl, this stretched his skin, which was covered in cuts and welts. "I can't move," he cried fearfully.

"YOU GET IN THERE OR YOU GO PICK ME OUT A FUCKING BELT!"

Drake screamed at the excruciating pain it caused to obey the demand. He knew that he wouldn't be able to sit on his bottom — not for a few days at least. He got on his knees and hunched over so that he could get under the low-hanging shelf. He was curled up like a turtle and he knew that, once his father closed that door, this would be the position he was to stay in for the next two days. Imagine the closet's dimensions. It was about two and a half feet in height that he had underneath the shelf. The length was about the same and the depth was only about two feet between the door and the back wall. Once you were locked in, there was no moving.

"And if you piss in that floor one more time, I'm gonna bash your fucking brains in! I had to remove the fucking carpet because of you!"

Drake had noticed this immediately. He was resting on hard, rough plywood and he was sure he had a splinter in his already aching knee. Martin gave him one last kick to the ribs and called him an insubordinate piece of shit before slamming the door, leaving him in complete darkness again.

 ***END FLASHBACK***

Drake awoke from his dreadful sleep paralysis when he heard Dahlia loudly drop her books onto her desk. His eyes shot open and he gasped, then quickly got out of bed to ensure that he wouldn't fall asleep and get stuck in the terrifying hallucination again.

"What's wrong with you?" the girl asked, but she didn't actually sound like she cared.

"Sleep paralysis," he said brushing it off as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Again? Isn't that the third time this week?"

Fifth, but close enough. "Yeah." His eyes were burning and he was dying to go back to sleep, but he knew he couldn't. Instead, he sat down on the foot of the bed lazily. "Are you done studying?"

"Yeah," she said passively. "Have you seen my ID? They wanted me to go out with them tonight."

"Again?" Drake couldn't hide his sadness.

"The fuck do you care anyway? Why don't you just go find some photographs of you and another one of your exes? What about that blonde slag Kenzly? That will keep you company."

"Babe, I'm really sorry. I should've told you that I had those pictures, but I wasn't getting off looking at them or anything. I just miss her sometimes."

"Like that's any better?"

"You're right. It's not." Drake stood and made his way over to her, pulling her away from the drawer that she was searching through. "I'm an idiot and I wasn't thinking about how I was hurting you. The pictures are gone now, though, and I'll never do it again." He wasn't as okay with this as he let on. In fact, he was still devastated. "You're the only one I have eyes for."

"Well, I guess I...maybe shouldn't have...hit you," she said, allowing him to take her in his arms. The second she had hit him, she'd seen where his mind had gone. She'd been too angry at the time to care, but after calming down, she actually felt guilty.

"It's okay. I deserved it," he said. "Why don't you stay home today? I can make you a nice dinner. We can cuddle on the couch and watch a movie and then have hot make-up sex."

At this, she pulled away from his chest and looked up at him. "No, I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm ready," Drake assured.

Her lips slowly turned up into a grin. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Well, what the fuck are we waiting for?" She shoved him backwards hard and he landed on the bed.

Although this hurt, he didn't mention it. "Well, uh, shouldn't you, you know...get rid of them?"

"Oh, yeah! Blimey, I forgot them already."

Dahlia went into the living room to send her friends away. The second she was out the door, Drake bolted over to the box of male enhancement pills. He took one, then he went over to his fiancée's nightstand and pulled out the handcuffs and blindfold. He knew that she might be in the mood to play rough, which she tended to do after make-up sex. This was not okay. At least, not this time. Therefore, he was going to switch it up and be rough on her, which she still enjoyed, just not as much as being the dominant partner.

When she came back, they started making out, then touching. She was actually very considerate of his rib cage and was very gentle around those spots. Drake spent so long on foreplay (stalling so that the pill could kick in) that she was begging for him to shag her. He cuffed her to the headboard and blindfolded her, then gave her cunnilingus to get her as close to orgasming as possible. His deep breathing caused his chest a lot of pain, but he pushed through it.

He didn't allow her to orgasm yet. He climbed on top of her and continued roughing her up by pulling her hair and biting her soft skin. After he started thrusting into her, he wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed.

Drake was aroused, but he had to admit that he honestly wasn't in the mood much at all. His ribs were killing him so much that he was weeping silently. This is exactly why he had blindfolded her. He wasn't going to stop this time. He was going to do whatever it took to please her. Maybe then she'll stop leaving him alone.

At one point, the pain forced a noise to leave his throat. He quickly caught it and played it off as a moan. How much longer until she got off? He just wanted this to be over. After finishing her, then he could focus on himself. Several pumps later, his mind changed. He was just going to get himself to ejaculate and finish her off orally. However, she soon beat him to the punch.

Frustrated with his own lack of results, he flipped her over, got her on her knees and went in that way after lubing up. They didn't do anal nearly as much, so she was a bit tighter back here. He gave her some demand about not making any noises and forced her to bite down on the pillow to muffle the sounds leaving her. He honestly couldn't remember what all he'd said. It was all just a bunch of bullshit to keep her satisfied until he could get off. Anytime she broke this rule, he "punished" her by spanking her, which made her cringe with pleasure.

What surprised him was when she began having her _second_ orgasm. This was getting embarrassing. Tears continued dripping down his face as the pain in his chest grew and grew. Finally, he got an idea. He yanked her hair, forcing her to lift her head off of her pillow. He instructed her to talk dirty to him and this actually helped immensely — so much so, in fact, that he finally came.

Drake told her that he was going to clean himself off and he said he didn't want her to move out of the position she was in until he said she could. Honestly, he didn't really care. He just needed to get himself to stop crying before he took off her blindfold. She'd play along, though, thinking it was still part of their BDSM session. He also commanded her to stay quiet until his return and he gave her another hard spanking so she could have a taste of what would happen if she broke the rules or whatever the hell. Blah, blah, blah. He didn't care. He wiped himself off, slipped on his boxers, silently grabbed his pain pills, then went into the bathroom.

Once there, he went ahead and got in the shower to cover the sound of his crying. Never in his life had he cried during sex before (Martin and Tad not included). He felt pathetic. He had a whole meltdown, which caused more pain. Thankfully, the pain meds started kicking in. He was probably in the bathroom for thirty minutes or so, then he tossed his clothes in the laundry room and went for some water. Curious as to what Clementine was up to, he went back to their bedroom and found her in the same place he'd left her.

 _Shit!_ Drake had been so wrapped up in himself that he'd somehow managed to forget about her.

"Can I talk now?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah." He made his way over to her and grabbed the key for the cuffs.

"Oh my God. That was the best shag I've had in months. Where have you been hiding this Drake? I fancy him." She got out of the bed, still fully nude, and wrapped her arms around him. "That was so fucking hot! I had a fucking anal orgasm! I read about those in a magazine, but I didn't even think that they were actually real!"

Drake kissed her forehead, relieved that she wasn't pissed that he'd left her there for so long.

"I know I like to take control in the bedroom, but you should do it more often because _that_..." She shook her head, her eyes showing just how baffled she was. "You lasted so long. This was what you had me waiting weeks for? It was so bloody worth it."

He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky. He felt like he'd won her back finally. "Why don't you get cleaned up? I'll get dinner ready."

"You're the dog's bollocks. That's what you are."

He smiled. "You pick the movie. I'll watch whatever you want to. What are you in the mood to eat?"

An hour later, Drake and Dahlia were snuggled up together on the couch eating dinner and watching some girly chick flick that the young man wasn't into. He didn't care. He turned his head towards her and watched her in complete adoration. When she felt him staring, she looked his way.

"What?" she asked, paranoid that she had something in her teeth.

Instead, he just said, "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," she said, then she gave him a quick peck on the lips.

* * *

Drake was already awake when Dahlia awoke. His back was to her and he said nothing, so she assumed that he was still sleeping and quietly left the bedroom. She made her way to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet to pee. While she did this, she yawned, then pulled out her phone.

Back in the bedroom, Drake stared absently at the wall. He'd actually been doing this since he had woken up roughly an hour and a half ago. Today was one of those days where it would take a miracle to get out of bed.

 _Ding!_

It took a full minute for the young man to muster up enough energy to lift his hand and pick up his phone. He instantly regretted it.

 **Ricardo Santos: was just thinkin bout that night we fucked & couldn't stop staring at all those ugly fucking scars on ur back. I used to feel srry for u and pity u but now am realizing u prob deserved it. U never do anything right. Just think about the not as good as u think u r. Ur ex mila used to laugh at u behind ur back, said she had to fake orgasms with u almost every time because she didn't wanna make u feel bad. She was only with U because she felt bad about all that stuff with ur dad and all. That's why she was always taking those pills. She had to be fucked up just to stand bein with u. she told me she didnt really evr love u but felt too guilty to tell u. then u fuckin killed her. U deserve everything ur dad ever did & honestly u deserve to still be there with him after all the pain u've caused. Im so fuckin glad i dont hav to see ur face evry fuckin day anymore. Ps: after fucking the bf I realized just how incredibly SHIT u r in bed.**

Drake put the phone down, his heart feeling heavy. He pulled the comforter to his neck and laid there as a single tear silently rolled down the side of his face.

* * *

Roughly twenty minutes later, Dahlia went to her bedroom. "You're awake," she said when she noticed how he was breathing. She knew he'd be really upset about the text message, but she also knew that what she'd said would motivate him to fuck the shit out of her later on when he got over the initial depression. She had made him feel like he had something to prove, which had been her goal all along. On top of that, she had some new things she wanted to try out that she knew her fiancé was completely against and she hoped this would change his mind. "You hungry?"

The young man squeezed his eyes closed and prayed that he could say this word without making it obvious he was crying. "No."

 _N_ was the hardest letter to pronounce when your nose is stopped up, so obviously, she picked up on it. "Babe, are you crying?" she asked innocently.

"I'm fine." Another fucking _N_. He needed to choose his words more carefully.

"Babe..." She got on her knees behind him and brushed his hair to the side. "What's happened?"

"Nothing." Seriously? Since it was already obvious, he went ahead and sniffled up his snot. "I'm okay."

"Did you have a bad dream?"

"Yeah," he lied. Well, actually it wasn't a full lie. His entire life _was_ a bad fucking dream.

"Oh," she pouted.

"I'll be okay," he assured despite the fact that his voice said otherwise.

"Well, okay." She was going to leave him here; he could tell. "You sure?" she asked.

"I'm sure." _Please, don't go._

"You want me to lay with you a while?"

 _Yes, please._ "If you want."

"Well, I'm actually kinda hungry. I was gonna make some nosh."

 _I need you to stay, please._ "Okay. I'll be fine. You know I get like this all the time and I just have to let it run its course," he said, diminishing his feelings for her sake. He had a habit of doing that. "I'll be up in a little while."

"Well, if you're sure..."

 _I'm begging you not to leave._ "I'm sure." To prove it, he gave her a kiss when she leaned closer.

"Okay, well, let me know if you want anything."

With that, she got up and left the room. The second she was gone, Drake broke down. He pulled his knees up closer to his body and hid his face in his arms as he reached around to pull at his own hair in hopes that the physical pain could take his mind off of the emotional turmoil he was currently feeling.

* * *

Clementine checked on Drake three other times that day, but still, he refused to get out of bed. She was beginning to think that she had gone a bit overboard with the text and she hoped it didn't ruin the hot night she had planned.

"He's not eating dinner?" Samantha asked sadly when she saw her roommate enter the kitchen alone.

Dahlia shook her head.

"Are you sure this was all caused by a nightmare?"

"You know how emotional he gets about that kind of thing." She shrugged.

"Maybe you should eat in there and try to get him into a show?"

"He said he wanted to be alone." This wasn't true. She was just tired of dealing with someone who was sad all the time. It was a downer and she refused to allow it to affect her mood.

"Oh, damn," Brett said to himself as he looked through Facebook on his phone.

"What?" Samantha asked.

"I used to go to school with this guy. Drake's ex Meelah was his younger sister. He posted this whole status. I think today would've been her twenty-third birthday."

"Oh, no." Samantha frowned sorrowfully. " _That_ 's why he's been so down lately. He's probably been thinking about this for weeks." She felt bad for him. That's probably why he got so upset about Dahlia being gone all the time. She couldn't imagine having to go through that alone. "Maybe you should try talking to him again."

Dahlia made her way to her bedroom, but it wasn't to give him comfort. "It's your ex girlfriend's birthday. That's why you've been moping around?"

He knew he was in trouble when he heard her tone and he was honestly not in the mood, so he denied it. "No."

"Yes, it is. Brett saw it on Facebook."

"I mean, it is her birthday, but that's not why I've been so depressed."

"That's rubbish."

"I didn't even remember it was her birthday." This was completely untrue and she was actually spot on about why he had been so down these past few weeks.

"You're such a liar."

For the first time that day, he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Babe-"

"It's like, no matter what I do, I'm never enough for you, Drake. I'm so tired of having to compete with other people or with drugs for your attention."

"No, babe, you are enough." His heart fell into his stomach when he saw a tear fall down her face. He got out of bed and immediately wrapped his arms around her tightly. "You are enough. Please, don't cry." He was crying, too, but he did so silently because it was Clementine's turn to have a breakdown.

"Then why doesn't it feel like it?"

He. Felt. Horrible. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. You mean everything to me. I'd rather die than be apart from you."

"Then why am I always your second choice?" she asked again.

Drake actually stayed silent for a few moments. His bottom lip quivered and it took everything in him not to let go of a sob. When he was able to speak clearly, he said, "You're right. I've been neglecting you and I've been a horrible fiancé. All I do is wallow in my own sadness and it's not fair to expect you to save me every time. I've been so selfish-" His voice cracked, but he quickly fixed it, "-and I'm so sorry. That's gonna change. I promise."

"It's just that I had no class or study group or anything today and you chose to spend all day in bed when we could've been together."

"I'm sorry," he said guiltily. Then he pulled back and wiped away the wetness from his eyes. "No more crying. See? I've spent enough time putting my own feelings first. The rest of the day is about you."

She smiled up at him and, in an instant, her tears were gone. "Why don't you come eat with us?"

"Okay." He looked in the mirror and sniffled as he wiped his face off more. However, he had been crying all day. It was going to be obvious and there was no way that he could hide it.

"And then after, maybe you could show me just how much you love me."

He immediately picked up on the sexual undertones. "Yes, m'lady." He lifted her chin, then pressed his lips against hers. "Whatever you want."

* * *

Just like she had hoped, her plan had worked and the insulting text message did make Drake feel like he had something to prove. In secret, he had popped two of the knockoff Viagra pills and the couple had fucked all night long. Dahlia had orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. In between each one, they cuddled and made out. The sheets were soaked through with sweat. They did a bunch of different fantasies. Dahlia's requests had started off innocent, then they had gradually turned towards things she knew the boy didn't like. She started asking him to role play some of the different sexual encounters he'd had on the streets, which he absolutely hated reliving. One thing he felt most ashamed of was when she pulled out a thick, veiny, twelve-inch strap-on dildo, which he didn't even know she owned. She had him pretend he was begging for cash while she pretended to be one of the many truck drivers he'd blown. She even went so far as to give him an actual ten dollar bill before pushing down her pants and watching him suck on the dildo.

After that, she finally opened up and told him about something she had always wanted to try. She wanted to play out a rape fantasy, which she had never told him she was into before. He probably should've assumed that after all of the bondage and torture she was into. He'd performed a rape role play only one other time in his life and that was with Molly. If he got through it with her, he was pretty sure he could get through it with the love of his life. However, he was not too enthused when he learned that he was supposed to be the victim and that she was going to peg him with a twelve-inch cock. Dahlia had tied him up and had him fight against the restraints and beg her like he used to beg his dad. She was impressed when he was able to elicit tears. Unbeknownst to her, they were real. Luckily, this was their last round and he pushed himself through it. Both collapsed with exhaustion. Clementine actually fell asleep pretty quickly. Drake quietly snuck off to the bathroom and sobbed for hours about Meelah's death, about making his fiancée feel unimportant, about showing her what he had done on the streets, about begging her not to rape him while she hit him-

Before he could continue his thoughts, he yanked back the shower curtain and threw up in the toilet. Despite how used to anal he was, it wasn't every day (or ever really) that he had something that was thick and a foot long shoved up inside of him. It had actually been quite painful, which made him react accordingly and made everything feel much more authentic to her. She even pretended she didn't hear him when he'd used their safe word and she forced a balled-up shirt between his teeth and wrapped it tightly around his head to gag him so that he couldn't protest again. This had made him feel incredibly uncomfortable and honestly kind of scared. It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep himself in the present rather than in the past and he kept having to remind himself that it was only Clementine.

When he finally got out of the shower, the sun was coming up. He was absolutely exhausted both mentally and physically, but he refused to lay down next to Dahlia. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel completely betrayed and humiliated by her. Honestly, he was even a little bit disgusted. However, he was going to keep all of that to himself. He had talked about his feelings enough lately and it was time for him to stop being so selfish all the time.

"Hey!"

Drake's eyes shot open.

"I said you slept on the couch?" Clementine asked.

The boy blinked away the brightness shining through the living room window. He started to sit up, but he found his bottom to be in a lot of pain. This was no doubt from the pounding it had taken the night before.

The girl snapped her fingers in his face. "Are you listening to me?"

His voice came out stained. "Mmwhat?"

"Why didn't you sleep in our room?"

"Mmm," he moaned and rubbed his eyes.

"Drake!"

"What?" He could see that she was getting ill with him and tried to recall what she had asked. "I was watching tv 'cause I couldn't sleep. Didn't wanna wake you, so I came in here."

"Well, I'm off to class."

"'Kay." He wasn't too sad about her leaving this time.

She gave him a peck on the lips that was so quick he wouldn't have had time to kiss back even if he had wanted to. "Love ya, babes." She made her way towards the front door, then stopped and looked back expectantly.

Drake's brain was incredibly slow, so it took him a moment to catch on. Even when he did, he had a hard time getting those words out, so he said, "You, too."

"See ya in a few hours," she said. "When I get back, I'm gonna shag you so hard that last night will feel like nothing compared to this." She winked at him and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I wanted to thank Guest and Jennifer for reviewing my last chapter. Guest, you're compliment was sweet. Thanks. Jennifer, I do have plans to bring Mindy back into the story, but I can't promise that it'll be a happily-ever-after type of thing. However, I also never planned for this entire Clementine bit to happen where Drake moved in with her. Sometimes, the characters have minds of their own. But I appreciate you reading.**

 **As always, please review. Reviews supply my brain with dopamine. Give me dopamine, please. Lemme know if there's any other suggestions or comments or criticisms or should the Charlie series have ended a long time ago? Idk. Byeeee.**


	9. Split

_(1 1/2 weeks later)_

"Thanks for bringing me again," Drake said as he looked over on the bed beside him, where Brett lay.

Sam was on the next bed over. She spoke up for her boyfriend. "I think he's still trying to get over his fear of needles."

All three of them had needles in their arms because they were donating plasma. Dahlia had told Drake about it and had not-so-subtly suggested that it would be a good way to earn some money until he got back to work. She wanted him to take her out on a date — somewhere special and romantic. You get paid for donating blood plasma and you can do it twice a week.

"You didn't have to donate," Drake said.

"Brett would rather suffer through it than get a bad case of FOMO." Or in other words: fear of missing out.

"Well, you're doing great," the young man tried.

Through clenched teeth, Brett said, "Shut. The fuck. Up."

Drake backed off. "Sorry." He looked up at the ceiling, thankful that he wasn't alone. Being by himself publicly gave him anxiety. "I'm glad you guys are here. I would've been so bored without you two."

"I'm honestly surprised that Dahlia's been letting you leave the house," Samantha said. "I thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but that girl — she can hold some grudges."

"Believe me, I know."

"After you two were finally able to have sex again, she would _not_ stop talking about it."

"She tells you all that?" He was worried, but he hid it well. He was embarrassed about a lot of their recent sex sessions. Honestly, he didn't even enjoy fucking her anymore — mainly because he was the one getting fucked, but even when he wasn't, it just didn't feel the same anymore.

"She did, like, a week or two ago."

"What...did she say?"

"You know, where you blindfolded her and all of that shit."

He felt relieved that she hadn't told anyone about their rape role-plays. "Oh, I didn't know she shared all of that with you."

"Unfortunately. But hey, damn, give my man some pointers, will ya?" she teased.

Brett looked at him, his teeth still shut tight. He lifted his arm (the one without the needle) and pointed his finger in Drake's face. "I'll kick your ass."

"I'm kidding!" Samantha said. "You're my big, strong teddy bear and you're perfect in bed." The girl had only been joking about her boyfriend needing tips and it was obvious, but Brett's pride was still hurt.

Drake saw this and, as a guy, he understood him, so he said, "Honestly, the only reason I lasted so long was because I couldn't get off. My ribs were hurting so bad that I was crying."

"That's why you blindfolded her?" Samantha said.

"Yeah. The second we were done, I ran off to the bathroom and got in the shower and cried for, like, half an hour. I got out and I was already thinking about dinner and shit, so I went to see what she wanted and I walked in there and she was still handcuffed and everything. I totally fucking forgot her."

Despite his fear, Brett stifled a laugh. "What the fuck? How? She didn't call you?"

"No, we were kinda doing this role-playing thing and I think I told her not to talk before I left her. Honestly, that whole thing's a blur. I just remember being in a lot of pain."

"Well, she sure enjoyed it," said Sam.

A nurse came around and checked on the group. "Alright, it looks like you guys are just about finished."

The needles were unhooked from their arms, they received snacks and Powerades, then they were on their way. They stopped by an ATM at Drake's request and he withdrew twenty dollars off of the card that the donation center had given him three donations ago. Soon, they were on the road again.

Drake reached between the two front seats and held the bill out. "Here's that twenty I owe you for that medicine you got me." He was referring to the male enhancement pills, but Samantha didn't know that.

"Keep it. You're good."

"No, lemme pay you back," Drake said seriously.

"You need that for your date with Dahlia."

"I got fifty each from the other two donations. That's plenty."

After the first two donations, compensation is then based on weight. The more you weigh, the more you're able to donate. Drake and Samantha both received twenty while Brett got thirty.

"Don't worry about it," Brett said again.

"Christians are allowed to be given money, too. Lemme not feel like a bum for a second. Sam, here, buy a new shirt. It's on Brett."

"Uh, hell yeah!" She accepted the cash. "There's something really sexy I've been eyeing at Victoria's Secret. It'll be a gift for both of us," she said to her boyfriend.

Brett gripped her hand, pulled it up to his mouth, then kissed her skin. "Is anybody hungry?"

"I'm starving," said Samantha. "I'm in the mood for Chick-Fil-A."

"Drake, is that good with you?"

The young man was reading something on his cell phone. "Um..." he said to stall, then when he was finished reading, he said, "What?"

"Chick-Fil-A?" Samantha said.

"That's fine."

The girl glanced at him from the front seat. "The fiancée's checking in?"

"Yeah."

 **Drake Parker: yea were otw now. stopping by chickfila want anhthing**

"So where are you planning on taking her?"

"Dinner and a movie."

"Where are you going for dinner?"

"I don't know how to pronounce it, but it's obnoxiously expensive."

"Dahlia will love it then."

 **Clementine Martin: no get something small so you don't spoil your supper**

* * *

"Can I have a bite of your sandwich?" Clementine asked, pulling her fiancé's attention away from the living room television, which was playing _Pulp Fiction_ , a movie all four housemates actually liked.

Drake passed it to her, then leaned forwards and grabbed his lemonade off of the coffee table. As he sipped through the straw, a text popped up on his phone. He picked it up.

 **Gemini: u &dahl come 2 the club 2nite**

 **Drake Parker: tonights datenight**

 **Gemini: perfect yall can have ur date here**

 **Drake Parker: wer doin dinner and a movie**

 **Gemini: yawn**

Drake sat back. When he went to take his sandwich back, he saw that Clementine had eaten the entire half that he'd had left. This annoyed him considering she had said not to get her anything _and_ she had eaten all of his fries already. "Babe..."

"I was hungry," she said innocently, then gave him a puppy dog face. She knew he couldn't be upset with her then and she was correct.

Samantha had overheard their exchange over the television and offered up the rest of her sandwich. "I'm full anyways."

"Nah, it's okay. I'll probably throw up if I eat anything else. Thanks, though."

Sam looked over at him as he gathered up his trash. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Just nerves," he said as he stood and headed for the garbage can in the kitchen.

He hated that he was feeling so anxious. It probably had a lot to do with the date later on. Besides the three times he had gone to the donation center, this was the first time he had actually been able to leave the house. He wasn't sure why this bothered him and going to a place full of doctors and needles didn't. He didn't want to admit it, but it was probably because he felt extremely relaxed around Sam and Brett, but he felt like a complete fuck-up and try-hard around Clementine. He just wanted everything to go right. This was his first time out of the house with her in weeks and, honestly, their first date since...since before the relapse. He wanted this night to go perfect because this was the first time in a long time that he had the funds to spoil her. She's basically been keeping him up this entire time, but he was already looking for jobs even though his ribs weren't completely healed. Just so that they could go on this date tonight, he had physically sold his blood for her. Maybe it was normal to other people, but to him, this was one of the strangest, most dramatic thing he had ever done for a girl.

The young man made his way to the bathroom and, not surprisingly, he hurled into the toilet. _Christ, pull yourself together. It's gonna be fine,_ Drake said to himself. _If anything's gonna ruin tonight, it'll be this kind of shit right here._

During the process of vomiting, he was pretty sure he had done so fairly quietly, but now that it was over and he was thinking back on it, he started obsessing over what everyone would say if they had, in fact, heard him. Maybe he had been much louder than he'd thought. However, when he left the bathroom, no one mentioned it.

Instead, Clementine was slipping on some shoes. "I'm going to the store with Sam to find a new dress for tonight. I want it to be special since this is our first night out in a while."

"Okay," he said quietly.

When she kissed him, he was quick to end it and tried to hide it by giving her hand a squeeze while forcing a smile. Samantha noticed this just before she walked out the door.

"I love you."

"Drive safe." Drake had become a master at dodging her expectation of saying those words back. He did love her; it had just felt really hard to say it lately. He closed the door behind her, then started to head towards the hallway.

"Not gonna finish the movie with me?" Brett asked.

"No, I'm gonna go lay down." He was gone before the older boy could say more.

Brett furrowed his brows, then stood and went into the bedroom that the other couple shared. He found Drake already laying down. "What's up?"

"Nothing." He was quiet and distant and there was a hint of sadness in his voice despite the fact that he tried to hide it. He'd been hiding it for over a week now and it was honestly so exhausting, so when Clementine was gone, he always disappeared to the room to wallow in his sadness without getting accused of being a bad fiancé.

Although Drake wanted to be left alone, Brett moved over to the bed and took a seat next to him. "You can talk to me, you know?"

"I know. I'm really fine. Just tired."

"Maybe you should wait at least or week or so before your next plasma donation. That could be what's draining your energy."

"Maybe."

"Damn, bro. What happened to your wrists?"

Because he was laying down, Drake's long-sleeved tee had rolled up enough to expose his wrists. They were dark purple all around and rubbed raw. Despite how tight Dahlia always made the handcuffs, he always attempted to slip his hands out of them. This never worked.

"Just a sex thing," he said, covering them up.

"How come I haven't seen them before?" He grabbed Drake's arm and examined his wounds. "These definitely look like they've been here a minute."

Drake shrugged. The answer was that he had been wearing a lot of sweaters and jackets lately. When he went to donate plasma, he had to pull one sleeve up so that they could stick the needle in. On this wrist, he always wore a watch to cover the bruising. On the other, he wore a couple bracelets to avoid embarrassment when one of the center's workers had to check the inner folds of both arms and his elbows for track marks or whatever they hell they're looking for.

"Are you comfortable with her binding you like that?" Brett asked.

"Yeah." It was a lie, but he didn't want to discuss it further. "Um, I was gonna take a nap before the date..."

"Oh, shit, okay. I'll go. Lemme get you some water, though. You're supposed to drink a lot of water before and after donating, remember? It might help you feel better."

"Thanks."

* * *

Dahlia scrunched her nose up with disdain at the dress Samantha was holding up, so the girl put it back and continued searching the rack.

"I want something shorter, you know? Something sexy, but fancy. I don't wanna look like a sket."

"Gotcha. Any particular color?"

"It doesn't matter."

Sam nodded. She silently looked through the clothes in front of her for a moment, but her brain was elsewhere. As casually as possible, she said, "So how are things between you and Drake?" She had seen the way he'd blown off her kiss and he didn't even tell Dahlia he loved her when she left, which was so unlike him.

"They're really great!" she said. "He's just been so...you know, not sad and he's not clingy or jealous or upset when I leave for class or study group or whatever. And the sex!" This made her grin.

"Here we go again," Samantha shook her head with a smile.

"We've been trying a lot of new stuff in the bedroom. The other week, he let me peg him."

"What?"

"Yeah, I told him about how I've always wanted to play out a rape fantasy and-"

"Wait, what?" Her smile was now gone.

"I know, but it was so fucking hot. He was able to make himself cry for me and everything. You know how he can just turn those crocodile tears on like it's nothing."

"Dahlia, you do remember the things that he's suffered through in his past, right?"

"I mean, yeah, but..." She shrugged. "Obviously, if he would've said no, then no means no and I wouldn't have done it."

"I guess."

"I mean, he did use the safe word once, but it was really quiet like he didn't actually mean it. He just wanted me to tone it down a notch, you know?"

"Did he _say_ that's what it meant?"

"Well, no. I put something in his mouth so he couldn't talk so he didn't really say much of anything after that."

"Dahlia..." Samantha was dumbfounded that her friend was smiling like what she was saying was cute. "It sounds like you just raped your fiancé."

"What?! No! You're misunderstanding what I'm saying. It was all part of the fantasy. He was role-playing." Suddenly, she pulled a dress from the rack and held it up in front of her thin figure. "Ooh, what about this one?!"

Samantha ignored her question. "What did he say after it was over?"

Clementine dropped the dress with exasperation as if she was annoyed that they were still on this topic. "I don't know. That was forever ago, but I do know that he liked it. If he would've said something negative about it, I would've stopped doing it."

"You've role-played like that since?"

"Yeah, a couple times, and not one time has he said something bad about it."

"Well, are you putting something in his mouth so he can't speak?"

"Well, yeah, but I take it out after we're done and he doesn't say he hates it," she said. "Besides, he cums every time."

"That really doesn't mean anything. Bodies have a mind of their own, even during sexual assault-"

"Excuse me?!" Dahlia glared at her. "I don't appreciate you standing there and accusing me of shit that you know nothing about. I'm sorry your sex life is dull and dry, but don't try to ruin mine because you're jealous, okay? You can just piss right the fuck off." She didn't even give a stunned Samantha time to respond. "You know what? Fuck this. I'm ready to go."

* * *

When Drake heard a car pull into the driveway, he knew it was time to put his "happy" face back on. He sighed as he pushed himself up lazily, then went down the hall. Once he entered the living room, the door burst open and an angry Clementine stomped through the door. It took everything in him to not verbally groan.

"Oh, look, here he is. Why don't you asked him?"

"Dahlia, chill, alright?" Sam said as she closed the door behind her.

"Ask me what?" Drake said.

"What's going on?" Brett asked from his spot on the couch when he saw just how heated one of the girls were.

"Well, go on." Dahlia looked back at her roommate while motioning towards her fiancé.

"It's nothing," said Sam, shaking her head.

Clem came out with it since the other girl wouldn't. "Samantha, here, wants to know if you think I raped you."

The young man's heart dropped into his stomach and his face went a bright shade of pink.

Brett paused the tv and stood. "Whoa, maybe we shouldn't be-"

"No, you guys should know, too, right? Samantha over here already thinks I'm a bloody rapist." She spat the name with venom.

"I didn't say that!"

"Yes, you did!"

Brett got in between the two when Dahlia took a step closer to her. "Okay, just calm down."

Sam craned herself over his shoulder so that she could see Dahlia. "The only reason I was concerned is because of what you told me."

Drake felt sick to his stomach and he was mortified, but he had to stick up for his girl. "She's my fiancée. She can't...rape me." He hated that fucking word.

"Drake, I'm not saying she did, but I know you know that that's not true. Just because you're engaged, it doesn't turn no into yes," Sam said. "This whole thing is blown way out of proportion and I wasn't trying to embarrass you. I was just trying to understand what Dahlia was telling me and, by what she was saying, it sounded like you weren't into it and she made you do it anyway."

"That is complete rubbish!" the other girl exclaimed.

"You said he said the safe word and then you put something in his mouth so he wouldn't be able to say it anymore. That's the part that worried me. I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything. I was just concerned for a friend." Samantha looked at Drake apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Oh, just sod off!" Dahlia said. "Tell her, baby. It was just a rape _fantasy_."

His throat was dry, so it cracked when he started to speak. He cleared it before trying again. "Yeah, I just...I was into it. It was all just...part of the role-play."

"See?! And you accused me of bloody rape!"

"I'm sorry!" Samantha said.

"You know Sam didn't mean any harm," Brett said defensively. "She just wanted to be sure that you were okay."

"I'm okay. I appreciate the concern," Drake said.

"Yeah, well I don't!" said Dahlia.

"Babe, it's cool." He took his fiancée's hand and pulled her away from the argument. He had no idea how he was going to calm her down, but he silently gave the other couple a nod to let them know he wasn't angry as he led Clementine to their bedroom to cool off. "She didn't mean anything by it. She's your friend." He closed the door behind them.

"Friends don't accuse friends of rape."

"Like she said, she just misunderstood what you were saying and she knows I can get overly sensitive to that kind of thing." He had a habit of making his own feelings sound invalid when he tried to cheer someone else up.

"Is what you said out there true," she asked, "or do you think I raped you, too?"

"Of course I don't, babe." He sat down next to her on the bed. "I...it was completely consensual. I just...I think it's important to...reestablish the importance of a safe word."

"You _do_ think I raped you."

He had heard that word way too many times in the last few minutes and it made him cringe each time. "No! I don't! I promise. It was just that first time we did it. I was nervous about the whole thing, so I panicked and said the safe word, but I wanted to give you what you wanted, so I was okay when you kept going. Otherwise, you know I would've done something to stop you."

He had tried, which is why his wrists looked the way they did, but he didn't want to make her feel bad for something that was in the past and he didn't want to call whatever had happened "rape" because he _refused_ to let another person have that kind of power over him. He had endured countless sexual assaults by many different people in his lifetime when a majority of people can go through their life without coming across this issue even once. Because of this, he had learned that it had to be himself. Something was wrong with himself, right? He had to be attracting these people somehow. When he was living on the streets, he had put himself out there as a sex object. Not surprisingly, he had suffered through a few bad encounters that he didn't like to talk about. It was to be expected with the job, right? He had basically done it to himself. Other times in his life were a little bit trickier, like with his dad and Tad when he was still his coach. He didn't know what he had done to set Martin off and he had no idea how Tad had smelled the weakness dripping off of him. He didn't know what exactly he had done to deserve what they had done to him, but for every other sexual assault in his life, he had found a way to blame himself, so surely those were his fault as well.

"My only request is that..." Drake continued, "maybe we can go back to the way we usually do things. I don't mind you pegging me at all," he was quick to say. "It's great, but lately, you've done it just about every single time we've fucked and we keep doing a lot of...rape scenarios and...I guess...I would just rather...kinda..." He was starting to think that he probably shouldn't have said anything because her reaction would be way worse than having a twelve-inch penis shoved up his ass every night. "...not." He looked down at the ground and braced himself for a slap.

"Okay," Dahlia said with a surprisingly soft voice. "All you had to do was say that. Don't put me in a position where I'd be considered a rapist."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

She was honestly shocked that she had managed to twist this around and make him feel like _he_ had wronged _her_.

"You're not, though," he assured. "I was into it. I'm just ready for...a change of pace, I guess. I'm sorry. I should've told you how I felt."

"You should've. Aren't you the one always talking about honesty?"

"I guess I'm a hypocrite," he said sadly. "I'll do better," he promised.

She may or may not have raped him and _he_ was the one apologizing for it! She was a fucking mastermind!

He sounded almost like a child when he asked, "Are you mad at me?"

She squinted her eyes and cocked her head to the side as if she was thinking about it, then Dahlia cracked a grin and place her hand on his cheek. "How could I be mad at this face?"

Drake closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers for a quick second before saying, "I'm sorry. I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

The young man kissed her again.

* * *

Drake stood in front of the mirror as he buttoned up the collared shirt his fiancée had picked out for him. He felt nervous about leaving the house despite how desperate he had been lately to do so.

 _Knock knock!_

"Yeah?"

The bedroom door was pushed open and Brett stepped inside. "Hey."

"What's up?"

"Wow, you look nice," he complimented. "For a second, I forgot you owned anything other than pajamas."

"I forgot, too, but Clem found this hiding in the back of the closet," he casually joked as he fastened the last button. Next, he picked up his watch and slipped it onto his wrist, then his bracelets. He noticed that Brett was standing there watching him quietly and it was clear that there was something on the boy's mind. Again, Drake asked, "What's up?"

He hesitated. "Sam's kinda upset about everything. She feels bad that...you got put on blast like that."

"It's fine. I know she didn't mean anything by it." Quieter, as if he feared his fiancée might by listening to him via hidden microphones, he said, "It was Clem who made a whole thing about it. I don't want Sam to feel like she did anything wrong."

"You think maybe you could go talk to her? I think it'd make her feel better to hear it come from you."

"Yeah, of course." Drake gave his reflection a once over, then grabbed the clothes he had changed out of so that he could drop them off in the laundry room along the way.

"She's in our room," Brett said. "Just go in. She'll know it's you and ignore you if you knock."

"Shit, she's that upset?"

His friend nodded, then separated from him and went into the kitchen to find something for dinner while Drake went into their bedroom, where he found the girl laying on the bed with her back to the door. He could tell that she was weeping.

"Samantha..." He closed the door behind him and went around to Brett's side of the bed so that she would have to look at him. He slipped in next to her and offered a kind smile. "Why are you crying?"

She didn't respond. Instead she buried her head further into her hair.

Drake brushed the blonde strands away from her eyes. "Sam, I don't want you to think I'm mad at you. I'm not."

This time, she spoke and her voice cracked and went several octaves higher. "I just didn't want things to blow up like that."

"I know you didn't. Things just got out of hand. You know Clem. If she can make a scene, she will. She likes to be a drama queen."

"She'd kick your ass if she heard you say that."

"I know. I guess now you have blackmail power you can pull out when I refuse to do the dishes."

She couldn't help but choke out a small laugh, which made the boy smile. She sniffled, then asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay. In fact, I'm really thankful that I have you in my life. You speak up when you feel like something's wrong and, I mean, things were kinda wrong. I'm grateful that you brought it up because you really opened the door for me and Clem to be able to have a conversation that I've been too scared to have with her," he said. "So really, you did me a favor. You were looking out for me and I really appreciate that. Not many people would've stood up to their friend like you did and that's really brave, and the fact that you did that for me of all people — I feel so thankful to have you as a friend."

"Really?"

"Yes! You're nice and you're so fucking cool and I'm really glad I met you. You're like a little sister to me."

"Bitch, I'm older than you."

"Are you?"

She hit his shoulder. Unlike Dahlia, she actually knew how to do so playfully.

"I'm kidding!" He grinned when he heard her laugh again. "I don't want you to be sad for me, okay? I'm not sad."

"Okay."

"Can I have a hug?" When she nodded, he leaned over her and gave her a hug. After a moment, he became dead weight.

"Drake!" She tried to wiggle him off, but he didn't budge and there wasn't much else she could do since she was on her stomach.

"I've gotta go now." Instead of getting out of bed the way he had come, he rolled over top of her slowly like an irritating younger brother would.

"Ugh!" she groaned. "You're so annoying!"

"That's a rude thing to say."

She was suddenly able to muster enough strength to lift herself up and force him to roll off of her.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed with surprise just before hitting the floor.

This got Samantha laughing again, but she stood, then held out her hand and helped him to his feet.

"So are we good?" he asked. He didn't want her to only be half convinced now because, if she was anything like him, she might start obsessing over everything later until she got herself down about the same thing all over again.

"We're good."

Again, he gave her a hug, but this one more serious. "You know I love you to death."

"I love you, too, but the death part depends on how much pain is involved. If it's worse than a paper cut, you're on your own."

"Well, damn, Samantha!"

"I would miss you afterwards, though."

"Gee, thanks." He gave her one last squeeze and kissed the top of her hair before pulling away. "I've gotta see if Clem's almost ready. You should check on Brett. He's trying to cook dinner for you."

"Oh, boy."

She quickly opened the door and made her way into the kitchen. While Drake passed them, he could hear the girl questioning his methods.

"What are you doing?! You can't put this in there! And why does that even look like that?!"

Brett just seemed to stand there dumbfounded for a moment until his girlfriend pushed him out of the way. He looked over at Drake, then gave him a nod to express his thanks for making Samantha feel better. The young man gave him a small smile in return, then made his way towards the bathroom to see if Clementine was getting ready still. The door was cracked, so he pushed it open and found her standing in front of the mirror and applying make-up. She hadn't gotten the chance to find a cute dress at the store, so she was wearing an old skater dress with the straps crossing around the neck instead of on the shoulders. It was light pink to match the collared and button-up dress shirt she had picked out for her fiancé to wear. Dahlia had curled her hair and had it pinned back with just a few strands hanging around her face. Her black eyeliner made her blue eyes pop and her soft pink lip gloss made her kissable lips sparkle.

"Damn, girl," Drake said, "you got a boyfriend?"

She looked over at him with a smile, then played along. "A fiancé actually."

"I should've known that a lady who looks as fine as you would already be taken. He's a lucky guy."

"You've got that right."

The young man moved over to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He buried his face into her neck to plant soft kisses on her skin, but she lifted her shoulder and tried to pull away.

"Stop." She giggled. "That tickles."

However, he continued flirtatiously nipping at her skin for a couple more moments before resting his chin her her shoulder and gazing into her eyes through the mirror. "You're so perfect." He squeezed her tighter. "You could've had any man you wanted. Any guy would feel lucky just to be able to hold your hand." When he said this, his fingers gently moved down her soft arm until he was able to clutch her hand. He brought it up to his lips and kissed it. "But you chose me. You've made me the luckiest man alive."

These weren't just empty words. She could see it in the way his eyes glistened when he looked at her. He was madly in love with her and his kindness was quite the turn-on. She turned around to face him and pressed her lips against his. Drake was surprised when he felt her begin to unbuckle his belt, so without disconnecting their lips, he reached over and pushed the door closed. Dahlia pushed his pants and boxers down for him, then started stimulating him with her hand. He was ready to go in no time. She turned around so that she was in front of the mirror, then she lifted her dress and pulled her panties down. The young man got behind her and entered her. While doing this, Clementine turned her head and kissed his lips. Drake's hands traveled up her thin figure and rubbed her breasts through her dress, then he moved his hands down her arms and entertained his fingers with hers, which she had pressed against the mirror for support. He started out slow and gentle, but changed his pace when she urged him to take it up a notch.

"Harder. Don't pull my hair, though. I don't wanna redo it."

Instead, she grabbed Drake's hair and forced him to suck on her neck. He repositioned himself slightly so that he was hitting her g-spot, then he reached around and slipped his hand underneath her dress so that he could massage her clit. She let go of a moan with this. She panted so hard that her breath fogged up the mirror, but she wiped it away so that she could look back at her fiancé. As Drake sucked on her neck and played with her clitoris, he brought his other hand back up to her breast. She was overwhelmed with pleasure — so much so that she let out a scream.

"Shh!" Drake looked at her as he laughed. "They're right there in the kitchen."

Dahlia laughed, too, but soon, another yell escaped. Drake quickly pulled his hand from her breast and put it over her mouth, then she moaned against his hand. He pulled his lips from her neck and moved his mouth up to her ear, then nibbled roughly on the lobe. This way, with his head looking straight ahead, he would be able to see her orgasm and vice versa. He kept his hand over her lips to keep her quiet as she screeched with pleasure against it, then she, too, had to shush him with a smirk when a moan left his lips. He planted kisses down her hair and all the way to her shoulder blade, then she grabbed his hair again so that she could watch his climax.

"I'm gonna cum," he warned, which he now did every time due to bad experiences on the streets, where he received no warning.

She urged him on, telling him to do so inside of her, which he did. Afterwards, they caught their breath, then cleaned up.

"You've been taking your birth control, right?" He was usually good about remembering condoms, but this time he hadn't thought about it until halfway through and he couldn't get himself to stop.

"It's a little late to be asking that, init?" When she saw the look he gave her, she said, "Yes, I've been taking it. See?" She even started digging through her bag to show him.

"I believe you." He gave her a kiss.

"Besides, don't you think it's about time we had some little Drakes and Dahlias running around the house being cute?"

Again, he gave her that same look. "No..."

She smiled, then placed her palm on his face and gave him another kiss. "Let's just get through tonight, but we'll definitely talk about it later," she said, then she patted his cheek and moved past him to leave the bathroom.

Drake's heart started beating faster than it had been during the sex and he stood there completely dumbfounded for a moment before turning and following her out. Brett and Samantha were both still in the kitchen and staring at them.

"The walk of shame," Sam said as she shook her head.

Both couples were usually considerate and pretty good about keeping their noises down during sex unless they were alone in the house. Obviously, there were a few slip-ups. This was one of them. Clementine was smirking proudly while Drake apologized.

"Oh, and it was consensual by the way," the girl said. "In case you were wondering."

"Babe..." Drake said, but he was honestly too scared to go against her too hard. He would be in a shitload of trouble if he stuck up for another girl over her. He had been on thin ice with her a lot lately and he just wanted to lay low and get back on her good side.

"What?" Dahlia asked with _that_ voice — the one she used when she was challenging him to say something. It was the voice that let him know that he was pushing his luck.

He whispered, "Please," and shook his head. He was thankful when she actually dropped the subject.

"Anyway, are you ready?"

"Yeah." Drake stood, then caught the keychain when she tossed it his way.

"You're driving," she said before saying a goodbye and walking out the front door.

Drake apologized on her behalf when she was gone.

"It's okay." Brett put his hands on his girlfriend's shoulders. "It's just gonna take her some time, but she'll get over it." He looked at Sam. "Besides, Drake will find a way to piss her off somehow and she'll forget all about being mad at you."

Drake scoffed. "I wanna say you're an asshole, but honestly, you're probably not wrong."

Samantha couldn't help but crack a grin, which satisfied the boys. "You better go before she starts honking the horn like last time."

Drake bid them farewell, then went outside. He jogged over to the car just before Clementine reached it and opened the door for her. "M'lady." He closed it behind her, then he got in the driver's seat.

* * *

"Ha! Stick that in your juicebox and suck it!" Sam teased when she saw that she had gotten first place in Guitar Hero II. "That's three to two. Guess that means you'll be stuck with laundry duty for the month."

"Rematch?" Brett asked.

"Nuh-uh." She shook her head.

"Come on. Double or nothing."

"No."

"Why? You chicken?"

"No. I'd just feel bad making you do laundry for two months straight."

He chuckled incredulously as he removed the guitar and set it down. "Wow, okay."

"You should've picked a different game, babe. You know I'm unbeatable at Guitar Hero. Drake actually _plays_ guitar and even _he_ can't beat me at this game."

"Well, we're gonna make a comeback. We've been practicing while you're at work."

"I could tell. You actually got a higher score than me in two of the songs...and one of those was my favorite!"

"We practiced forever on that one just to piss you off," he said. "It stings, doesn't it?"

"Not as much as having to do laundry for a month, I bet."

Brett eyed her for a moment, then said, "Touché."

Samantha fake pouted, then wrapped her arms around her man. "Aw, don't get grumpy. If it'll make you feel better, I'll make a bet with Drake and, when he loses, he'll have to deal with dinner _and_ dishes for the next two weeks."

"I'll do the dishes. Just get him to do our laundry," said Brett. "I hate laundry."

She smiled. "I'm gonna get some ice cream. You want some?"

"Yeah." He glanced at the clock. "You think they're at the theater yet? I wonder what they're gonna see. Did Dahlia say?"

"Right. Like she would tell me anything after today," Samantha said as she opened the freezer.

"Don't even worry about her. You know how she is. Based off of what you told me she said, I would've thought the same thing as you. Honestly, I think Drake's lying to cover for her. You don't ignore a safe word."

"I was shocked that she even asked him to do that kind of role-play anyway. I can't even imagine how uncomfortable that must've been."

"Don't sweat it, though. I'm sure Drake is glad to know that you would actually stand up to your friend on his behalf when you feel like something is wrong."

"Yeah, that's exactly what he said actually." Samantha started scooping the ice cream into two bowls. "So you wanna watch a movie?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna go to the bathroom first."

"Wait, you want whipped cream?"

"Duh."

"Well, fuck me then."

Brett laughed as he went into the bathroom. After closing the door, he reached down to lift the seat up, then noticed a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of it. At first, he thought it had somehow ended up there by mistake, but then he noticed some rushed scribbles that looked to be written with mascara. He crinkled his forehead, then reached for it. His face contorted with disgust when he saw the piece of gum on the back that had made it stick to the bottom of the toilet seat.

Samantha sucked the strawberry ice cream off of her thumb, then opened the refrigerator and gave the shelves on the door a once over. "Yes!" She picked up a jar of maraschino cherries and carried them over to the counter. "Brett, you want cherries?" she called as she used a spoon to dig a few out. "Brat!"

She still didn't receive a response, so she put away the ice cream and whipped cream, then she poured herself a glass of lemonade. By the time she was finished, her boyfriend walked out of the bathroom.

"Bruh, did you not hear me talking to you?" When she looked up at him, she immediately noticed that something was wrong. Her heart started beating faster as her brain came up with dozens of disastrous scenarios that could've just happened in the last couple minutes. "What?" She expressed confusion when she was handed a bit of toilet paper. She saw the words written on it and read aloud. " _Hate to be that guy but I matched this girl on tinder and got invited to her place. After we fucked_ — oh my God." She put her hand over her heart and was filled with sadness. " _After we fucked she made us lunch but she accidentally spilled her drink on me and opened the closet and gave me one of your shirts. I had no idea she already had a boyfriend and wouldn't have slept with her had I known. So sorry bro but I thought you should know._ Oh my God." She looked back up at Brett. "Dahlia really is cheating on him."

Although his girlfriend was sad and sympathetic, Brett was pissed. "That is so fucked up. I can't believe she would actually do this to him. They're fucking engaged!"

"Where did you find this?" Sam asked.

"It was stuck to the bottom of the toilet seat with gum. I guess he knew she would never need to lift the seat and he would find it when he went to the bathroom."

"This is awful. Oh, I feel so bad for him." She read the note again. "I feel so sick to my stomach."

"This is gonna destroy him." He shook his head with anger. "God, what a bitch!"

"What do we do?" Samantha asked.

"We have to tell him."

"I know that's the right thing to do, but...I'm scared he'll relapse. He's super sensitive."

"I can not believe she did this to him," Brett said again.

"When do you think it happened?"

"We drank all that water this morning before we donated plasma. I peed before I left the house and it wasn't there then."

"So she fucked some guy while Drake was out selling his blood to take her out on a nice date?"

"I fucking _knew_ she was cheating, but at the same time, I'm still so shocked."

"Okay, for real, what are we gonna do?" said Samantha. "I know we should tell him, but I feel like maybe we shouldn't do it tonight. He worked really hard to make today special."

"So we should just let him fuck her knowing some other guy was painting her walls just hours before?! That's bullshit!"

The girl stayed silent as he worked to tone down his rage, which he did quickly due to his guilt.

Moments later, he said, "Sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you. I just... What the fuck is she doing?"

"I know." She wrapped her arms around Brett and rested her head against his chest.

"Her mouth was probably all over his dick, too, and she's been kissing Drake like nothing even happened. She's fucking sick." He sighed, then said, "He's gonna freak the fuck out."

* * *

Samantha could see Drake's demeanor change when he read the confession scribbled on a bit of toilet paper. Of course he refused to take their word for it, but now he had indisputable proof. Now he had to face the truth. He read it, reread it, then reread it again. After that, he handed it back to Brett.

"You okay, bro?"

"Yeah," he said and he sounded like he meant it.

"What are you gonna do?" asked Sam.

He shrugged. "Nothing."

"What?"

"What do you mean nothing?" This angered Brett. "You can't just ignore this."

"I don't think she did it."

"What do you mean?!" He had to be shushed by his girlfriend so that Clementine wouldn't hear them. "This is literal proof that she's cheating on you."

Again, he shrugged. It was clear that he had something to say, but he refrained.

"What?" Brett said.

"Nothing. I just... She's not the only girl that lives here."

This really pissed Brett off. "I know you're not calling Samantha a cheater in front of me."

"Okay, look-" Samantha placed her hand on the boy's chest to calm him. "I know this is hard to take in, Drake. I know you love her, but you even said yourself that you thought she was cheating."

"But the note says boyfriend," he argued. "I'm not her boyfriend; I'm her fiancé."

"Do you really think she would've stopped to tell him that she was engaged?"

"I don't think she did it," he said again.

"You're in denial," Brett said, "but I know you know it's true. You know how Dahlia is."

"No." He shook his head and cocked it to the side in a challenging manner. "How is she?"

Samantha could tell that he was getting defensive now and, if Brett insulted Drake's fiancée in anyway, he would probably start throwing punches. She'd never seen Drake do so before, but she knew that he was capable of it after hearing about the fist fight he'd started with Clementine's ex Carter.

"Babe, can you just — can I talk to him for a sec?" she politely requested.

Brett hesitated, but he nodded, then left their room to give the two some privacy.

After this, Samantha sat down on her bed in front of Drake and looked up at him. "Go ahead and ask me what you wanna ask me."

"I don't wanna ask you anything," he said phlegmatically.

"You don't wanna ask me because you know I'll tell the truth and you don't wanna believe it."

Drake's calm and collected expression faltered a bit at this, but he kept quiet.

"Ask me." Again, she got nothing. "Ask me," she pushed firmly.

Although she was a woman and he had mostly been wronged by men in his past, he feared that strict, authoritative voice no matter which gender it came from. Because of this, he complied, although hesitantly.

"Did you cheat on Brett?"

"No," she said in a voice so serious that he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. She had never used that tone before. "You know the last thing I would want is to get in between you and Dahlia. I would never throw her under the bus and ruin your relationship just to save my own. I did not cheat on Brett. I would never cheat on Brett. I was not the girl this guy slept with." She pointed at the note again.

For a moment, she saw his eyes water over, but only for a moment. He rubbed his nose and sniffled, the sound of which made it clear how stuffed up it was and how close to crying he was. He put his hands back on his hips and looked down at the floor, his mind clearly racing at a hundred miles a minute. She sat silently while he worked things out in his head. It wasn't long before he spoke. His voice was back to being cold and empty.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Thanks for bringing it to my attention." He didn't sound incredibly thankful. "Goodnight."

"Drake-"

Before she could say more, he had left her room. Did he believe her? He wasn't too sure. In his brain, he thought that maybe there was a chance that she was telling the truth, but in his heart, he felt like there was no way that Dahlia would ever do that to him. He went straight to the bedroom he shared with his fiancée and was met with a giant grin. She was laying sideways on the bed in red lace lingerie, which was see-through and only went low enough to cover her panties, leaving little to the imagination. She was sexy as fuck and, normally, the sight of this alone would arouse him, but his doubts were hindering that from happening.

"What's the matter? Don't you like it?" she asked.

He shook away his thoughts of paranoia. "Yeah. It's very hot."

She smirked with satisfaction, then waited. After a moment, she said, "Well? Get your ass over here and shag me so hard I can't walk straight for a week."

"Um, I'm...actually I'm kinda tired. It's been a long day and-"

"Oh, boo!" She scrunched her nose as if she smelled something disgusting.

He tried to come up with an excuse. "I think donating the plasma today just took a lot out of me. I'm physically exhausted."

She frowned, then stood and walked over to him. She grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the bed, where she made him sit down, then Dahlia got on her knees behind him, removed his shirt and started massaging his shoulders.

"Clem-"

"Shh. Just relax."

He couldn't deny how great it felt. He closed his eyes and allowed her to get the tension out of his muscles. A minute went by and a moan left his lips.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm."

The girl then put her lips in the crook of his neck and sucked on his skin. So that she had enough room, her hands moved down to his biceps and she began massaging those. Drake's breathing got heavier and goosebumps rose up on the back of his neck. Soon, she pulled his chin towards her and connected their lips, then her hands gently slid down his bare torso. Although he wanted to, Drake didn't protest when she unfastened his jeans, nor did he stop her when she got on his lap, straddling him as she shoved her tongue down his throat. Even when he pulled his lips away, she didn't stop. She was all over him. She kissed him and touched him and he just sat there and let her do it. It felt good — he had to admit that much — but he couldn't stop thinking about that note. Did he think Samantha would ever cheat on Brett? No. Never. But he didn't want to believe that Clementine had been unfaithful to him either. Now that Brett and Samantha had confronted him, things with Dahlia felt different. The way her lips grazed his skin, the way her fingernails lightly gliding up his torso made the hairs on his arms stand up — it wasn't the same. There was no emotional or spiritual connection. It was strictly primal.

Drake was suddenly shoved backwards so that he was laying down, his feet still planted on the floor. Dahlia leaned over him, her lips traveling down his torso. She shimmied his jeans and boxers down, then tossed them to the side. The young man laid there as she took his penis in her mouth, then she slipped her free hand into her panties and started getting herself ready.

When both were physically aroused, she sat down on Drake's lap again, but this time, with her back towards him. She moved her hips, penetrating herself with his penis as he kissed her shoulder blade. One of her spaghetti straps slipped down her arm, so he pulled the front of that side of her dress down, revealing her boob. He cupped it in his hand and squeezed it until he heard her moan.

* * *

Drake had been unable to sleep that night. He reread that note over and over again and even went so far as to go through his closet to see if he noticed anything missing. That guy still had someone's shirt and, if all of Drake's clothes were accounted for, then Clementine couldn't be the mystery girl. However, a lot of his clothes had been left behind at Ricardo's and Gem has borrowed a shirt from him when he'd spent the night probably. Drake probably had a couple shirts at Gemini's honestly. He was somehow terrible at keeping up with his clothes.

The next day when Dahlia headed out for study group, Drake gave her a kiss and let her go without a word. However, that's when his paranoia got the best of him. He couldn't stand not knowing anymore. Brett let him borrow his car and Drake followed her. The house was in the next neighborhood over, which was less than ten minutes away. Drake parked down the street so that he wouldn't be seen, then he started to make his way towards the house.

As he stood behind a line of bushes dividing one yard from the next, he started to realize just how fucking crazy this was. He was stalking and spying on his fiancée. This was not him. This was not who he was. What ever happened to trust? Trust used to be the foundation of his relationships, but now he was creeping in the bushes and peeping through windows like some kind of freak. Drake started to change his mind about this plan. There was no uncrossing that line if he went through with it. This would cause a huge riff in their relationship if she saw him and he didn't know how many more he could cause before she finally broke up with him.

Before he had time to decide, however, the front door opened and he saw a familiar face: Carter. He had no time to comprehend what was happening before the two connected their lips. Dahlia pushed him inside and was already removing his shirt as he flung the door closed. Drake's heart dropped. His mind was racing and it was hard to breathe. It wasn't long before his nerves got so bad that he leaned over and puked his guts out.

Tears stung his eyes when he was done. He had no idea what to do, but he knew he couldn't stand here for some neighbor to spot and he felt too weak to make it back to Brett's car. Instead, he went over to Clementine's car and got inside, quietly closing the door behind him. Now he was alone and could have his meltdown in private. Unfortunately, he had no one there to keep him from going into full-blown panic mode.

Drake closed his eyes and rested his head against the headrest. _Okay? Just calm down, okay? Don't freak out. Not right here. Not right now._ He took a huge breath through his nose, then opened his mouth and slowly let it out. _I'm gonna go in there and kick his motherfucking ass, I swear to God. No, stop. Just think. Just think._ The young man was so angry that he was shaking, but even after what he had witnessed, he was still absolutely in love with her. _Fuck! Oh, fuck, Clem, why would you do this?! Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Look, you cheated on her first. You went out and you whored yourself out and you relapsed. She forgave you, you did it again, then she forgave you again. You can talk this through with her and you can forgive her just like she did for you countless times before. We can work this out. This doesn't have to mean it's over. We can still get through this._

Just then, he heard a loud sound that sent a whole new wave of nerves through him. His eyes jerked open, then he looked down at the cup holder between the seats. It was Dahlia's phone. He picked it up and looked at the screen. She had received a text message, but she had it set up so that it didn't show its contents on the lock screen. He swiped to the side to open the phone, but was then prompted to put in a four digit combination.

"Shit!" he quietly cursed.

Never had he gone through her phone before. He didn't believe in such an invasion in privacy. This was an exception. He typed in the year that she was born, then the month and date when that was wrong. As he did this, he started recalling times when he noticed the girl being extremely secretive about her password and what she was doing on her phone. He had been so fucking naive to trust her. Doubtful, yet hopeful in a way, Drake typed in the day they had met. No luck, and now he was locked out for the next minute.

"Fuck!"

He knew that he would only lock himself out for longer and longer periods of time if he kept guessing wrong. He took this time he had to think. _Clem is clearly selfish as fuck. It's got to be about her somehow. How did she not put her birthday? That's literally her favorite time of year. Come on, Drake. Think. What are some important dates? What are her favorite numbers? Anything._ Just when his one minute was up, he remembered something. She was from Europe. They write their dates differently, with the actual day coming before the month. He typed in her birthday again, but European-style, and miraculously, her phone unlocked.

"Yes! Holy shit!"

For someone who was always on her cell phone, she actually didn't have many apps. She had the basics: Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat and Twitter. However, right underneath that row, he saw the Tinder app. He clicked on it, then went to her messages. He scrolled through and saw dozens of messages. He then went back up to the top and opened the first one.

 **Tyrone: ok lemme know when ur free**

 **Dahlia: no class today and the roommates are gone for the next couple hours. can u swing by?**

 **Tyrone: omw [runner emoji]**

This was from yesterday morning before Drake had left with Samantha and Brett to donate plasma. He remembered this. He had literally been sitting right next to her, slipping on his shoes while she typed away on her phone. He had told her bye, told her he loved her; she had said the same things back. She'd kissed him and told him to hurry back. She said she'd miss him. Each one of those lies had effortlessly rolled off of her tongue. Apparently, he was just a roommate to her.

Tyrone must have been genuine when he'd expressed guilt because Clementine had messaged afterwards hoping that he'd hook up with her again soon and he never responded. He read through more of the messages, each one ripping his heart into more and more shreds. Minutes into this, Dahlia received a message through Facebook. Drake looked at the banner on the top of the screen.

 **Keegan: wyd**

Drake recalled the name. This was supposed to be the guy from Clem's study group.

 **Keegan: fiance around?**

Drake blinked at this. He actually knew that she was engaged and he was still willing to fuck her?! He clicked on the message, then immediately regretted it because Facebook messenger tells people when their messages have been read.

 **Keegan: im horny**

 **Keegan: send pics**

 **Keegan: give me more like last time with the closeup of ur tits**

 **Keegan: &another one of u with that dildo**

 **Keegan: actually send a vid for that one**

Drake scrolled up further and it wasn't long until he saw a dick pic. He clicked on it, then scrolled so that he could see for himself what kinds of photos his fiancée was sending to other guys behind his back. She'd sent him nudes before, but less often now that they lived together. Even so, he had never received the kinds of pictures she was sending to these other guys. They were dirty and perverse, which he would've loved had she sent them to him and not every single guy on her fucking phone. There was even a photo of her touching herself at her desk and Drake could just barely be seen sleeping in the dark background. Not only had she cheated countless times; she was making a complete mockery of him in the process.

Drake had had enough. He couldn't stomach seeing anymore messages or anymore pictures. There was only one more thing he needed to know. He backed out of Keegan's messages and scrolled down without even reading the names. He was curious how long this had been going on. If it started during the two months that he'd abandoned her, well, he probably deserved that honestly. However, he scrolled and scrolled and scrolled and saw that she had been sleeping with other guys since the start of their relationship.

Drake felt light-headed. Everything she had ever said to him was a lie. Ricardo had been right all along. She never loved him. She had only been using him and he'd been too fucking stupid to see it. She made him look like a fool in front of his friends. Ha! What friends? He'd dropped every last one of them for her! How could he have been so fucking blind?! He was such an idiot! Drake couldn't stop himself when he suddenly vomited again, this time in the floor of her car. He almost started to clean it, but then stopped himself. _Fuck it,_ he thought. He got out of the passenger's seat and made his way back down the street to Brett's car. Once inside, be drove away. He wanted to get as far away from here as fucking possible.

* * *

He was bawling so hard that it was almost impossible to see the road. He fervently wiped at his sore nose, then his eyes, then his nose again. Audible sobs left him and his back jerked with each one. The closer to home he got, the harder he cried. He didn't want Brett and Sam to see him like this, so the fact that he couldn't stop crying made him cry harder. He wanted to die. He wanted to slaughter his wrists, take a shitload of pills and choke on his own vomit in her bed so that she could find him and feel guilty as shit. No matter how much he hated her right now, though, he loved her too much to do that to her.

When he arrived at home, he saw that Samantha's car was gone and remembered that her and Brett had some volunteer thing with the church today. He was thankful to have the house to himself. He walked right in and went directly to the room he shared with his fiancé — the room he _used_ to share with his _now ex_. He went to the closet and grabbed an old book bag. He moved around so much that it was overdue time for him to invest in a suitcase. However, this backpack had been through everything with him. It had carried his hygiene products when he'd stayed with his dad that summer. It had carried his math textbook that one time he actually remembered to bring it when he had to study with Mindy. It had carried his Charlie supplies (consisting of a couple boxes of Triple C's, a pair of scissors and a bottle of water) when his addiction had really started spiraling out of control. It had carried his cat Fonzie to and fro before his father ended up killing him. It had carried the magazines and word search books his mother had given him after Martin had injured him enough to require hospitalization. It had carried the clothes he'd got to finally return home in after two long, grueling months. It had carried the can he'd bought, which had ultimately lead to Meelah's death. It had carried the drugs and alcohol he'd ingested for his first suicide attempt. It had carried three shirts, two pairs of boxers, a pair of jeans and the one hundred and thirty dollars he'd stolen out of Walter's wallet when he'd been kicked out and forced to move back in with his abusive father. It had carried a few extra boxes of Triple C's he'd hoped to share with Mindy when he'd met up with her at a diner, only to receive news of her pregnancy. It had carried the ecstasy pills he'd had to sell for Marcellas. It had carried nothing but a useless journal the first time he'd been homeless. It had carried the ten dollars Tad had given him for the handjob in the diner bathroom, which was his first experience with prostitution. It had carried the five hundred dollars that Molly had given him per fuck to pay Marcellas. It had carried that last box of pills that his mom had tossed out the car window, which had lead to him causing her to wreck and end up in a wheelchair. It had carried a pack of cigarettes, almost empty by the time he made it home, where his father then attempted to kill him, but had died in the process. It had carried the pain meds he'd had to take while living with his mom and Walter again. It had carried the Triple C's he'd relapsed on and the phone number Tad had given him just before Drake had been kicked out of his home again. It had carried the razor blades he'd bought to kill himself because he was sick of letting Tad have his way with him. It had contained absolutely nothing when Ricardo had practically kidnapped him and forced him to get clean. It had carried a few condoms that he was ready to use as soon as he could convince that hot girl Dahlia to leave the bar and go back home with him. It had carried the Triple C's he'd ended up relapsing on after nine months sober. It had carried the grocery sack that had contained the bottle of lube he took with him to the truck stop. It had carried his Trainspotting book, the only thing worth keeping when he'd left the streets and moved back in with the Santos brothers. It had carried the snacks and water bottle Ricky had packed for him as they hiked up a mountain. It had carried some of the alcohol back to the cabin, which he later got so wasted on that he ended up sleeping with his best friend. It had carried his mom's current address written on a napkin, which he'd left unread. It had carried his toothbrush in case Clementine let him inside to cuddle (and she did) despite the fact that he'd abandoned her for two months. It had carried both Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer when he'd left Ricardo's to move in with Dahlia after the big fight. It had carried his I.D., which they'd required so that he could drink at Chili's after he'd proposed to the love of his life. Now it would carry whatever he felt was most important because he didn't plan on returning to this house ever again.

Drake started grabbing all of his clothes out of the closet. He didn't have much, but still, they wouldn't fit in his book bag. He would just have to get a garbage bag to put things in. He piled everything in the closet that he owned on the bed, then snatched open some of the dresser drawers to grab more of his belongings. As he did this, he heard the front door open.

"Drake?" It was Dahlia.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed quietly.

She'd gotten here quick. Well, maybe not. She'd had plenty of time to finish fucking Carter and find the vomit in her car. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Drake had caught her. Literally, every bad emotion made him throw up uncontrollably. He probably shouldn't have parked on the side of the road and spent so much time sobbing, but it had just been so hard to see and he had wanted to stop being so emotional because he'd thought his roommates would be here.

He picked up his two kittens and put them into his backpack, leaving it partially unzipped so that they could breathe. He was going to have to leave his clothes and literally everything else. He didn't care. He just wanted to get as far away from Dahlia Martin as possible. Unfortunately, when he went to slide up the bedroom window, it wouldn't budge. As he struggled with the old, rusty locks, the bedroom door burst open.

"Drake-" She paused when she saw his things emptied out of the closet and dresser. "Drake, what the fuck?"

If he wasn't so desperate to leave, he would've been baffled that she was playing innocent right now.

" _Where_ are you going?"

"As far away from you as I can get." He gave up on the window and turned back to her.

"Excuse me?"

"You can cut the fucking bullshit, Clem! I saw you with him!"

She paused, then said, "Okay, look, Drake. It was a one-time thing-"

"I saw the messages in your phone. On your Tinder app," he said to jog her memory. "And on Facebook. _'Fiancé's gone. Now come show me what a proper shagging's like.'_ " This was only one of the many messages that were now permanently carved into his brain. "Keegan wants you to send more pictures by the way."

She knew she was caught and that there was no denying it, so she started attacking him. " _You_ 're the one who pushed me away! You. Left. Me. Remember?"

"Yeah," he said harshly. "Too bad I wasn't smart enough to fucking stay gone."

"You are such a hypocrite! You know that?! You were out there shagging hundreds of guys! That's no different than what I did!"

"I didn't do it over the span of our ENTIRE FUCKING RELATIONSHIP!" He was still crying and his voice cracked with these words, which made him feel pathetic.

"I only cheated because I was going mad being around _you_ all the time! All you do is lay around moping and whining about yourself! It's a fucking bummer, Drake!"

He turned his head away and chuckled bitterly as he wiped his nose.

"Being around you when you were like that made _me_ wanna kill _my_ self! _You_ drove me away! _You_ did!"

"Yeah, you're right," he said through his tears. "It's my fault. It's like you said: no one else will accept my baggage. Well, I would rather be alone forever than spend one more second wasting my life with you!" he spat viciously, then he tried to go past her.

Dahlia shoved him back, then shut and locked the door.

"Get THE FUCK out of my way!"

"You're not leaving!"

Again, Drake tried to force his way past and again, he was shoved. This time, it was hard enough for him to fall onto his ass. Worried about his kittens, he removed his book bag until he had a safe passage for them to leave. "The fuck is your problem?! Clearly, you don't wanna be with me or you wouldn't have cheated, so just move and let me get the fuck out of your life!"

" _You_ 're breaking up with _me_?!" she said incredulously as he pushed himself back onto his feet.

"Clem, I swear to fucking Christ-"

" _You_?!" she repeated. " _You_ 're dumping _me_?!"

"Look, I don't give a shit who dumps who! Tell all your friends you broke up with me if you want! I don't care as long as I never have to fucking look at you again!"

"You don't get to walk out on _me_! You're the fucked up one in this relationship! You're the one with all the issues! You're the one who drags a shit ton of baggage around everywhere you go!" Dahlia yelled. "You're a bloody junkie! You ran out on me and became a fucking prostitute!" She spat that word out of her mouth.

"Yeah, you're right, so if you can step the fuck aside, I can get out of here and stop inconveniencing you with my bullshit."

Suddenly, she brought her hand up and smacked him so fast that he hadn't seen it coming. "I'm trying to have a fucking conversation with you and you're standing there being all sarcastic and I _don't_ appreciate that!"

"Don't _fucking_ hit me!" He shoved her away from him, which angered Clementine to the point that she did exactly what he told her not to. "You don't get to hit me! You do _not_ get to hit me _anymore_ , you fucking bitch!"

Never had he ever stood up to her in this way. Never had he stood up to anyone ever. Dahlia didn't like this new, braver Drake at all. She had to remind him who the fuck he was. She had to put him back in his place. She gave him another hard shove. He tripped over the foot of the bed and fell backwards onto it. Before he could move, she was on top of him and she continued hitting him, but with her fist this time.

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?! Huh?! You're the one who's a bitch! Not me!"

He had his arms up to protect his face. "Get off!" he shouted. "Clem, I mean it! Stop!"

"You see?! And you're trying to call _me_ the bitch?!"

His mind was dragging him back to his father's and all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sob. He felt scared like maybe he was going to die. This is how that night had started after all. He was beaten, then he was raped, tortured and almost killed.

"Stupid, worthless fuck!"

He couldn't tell whether Martin or Dahlia had said this. He was slipping. When he peeked through the crack between his arms, he couldn't tell if it was his father or his fiancée on top of him.

"You are nothing without me! Do you hear me?! NOTHING!" This definitely sounded like Martin.

A wave of fright rushed through his body. Fear jolted through his fingers so many times that he could physically feel them pulsating. His dad was back and he'd come to finish what he had started. Drake turned and grabbed a fistful of the comforter, but before he could begin crawling out from under the raging man, his shoulder was snatched and he was shoved into his back. Now that he was forced to look up, he found himself staring into the eyes of a man he thought he'd killed. His heart was bursting out of his chest and he was paralyzed with terror. In an instant, his jaw received a punch, which reminded him to shield himself. However, that's not what happened. Instead, he shoved Martin back with all of his might.

"Stay the hell away from me!" he screamed.

There was a crash as Clementine fell back with so much force that her head collided with the wall. Drake couldn't move. He laid there trembling although he knew he needed to run. It was like he had forgotten how. He knew his father would be back on top of him if he didn't get up, but his muscles weren't working. He was on full alert. As he hyperventilated, the boy's eyes scanned the room. His brows furrowed with confusion as he realized that this wasn't his dad's house at all. Finally, he pushed himself up and that's when he saw Dahlia on the floor clutching the back of her head.

"What the fuck, Drake?!"

"Shit! I'm sorry!" Despite everything that she had done to him minutes ago, he was overcome with guilt. He hurried to her side. "I didn't mean to! Are you okay?! Fuck, I'm so sor — aaahhh!" He crumpled to his knees after he was punched in the groin. He'd had no time to brace for it and the surprise of it knocked the wind out of him. He clutched his lower stomach and took in short, staccato breaths of air, then slowly leaned over until his forehead rested against the carpet. The pain brought even more tears to his eyes. "Fuck..." he said on a quick exhale.

"I think I'm fucking bleeding," Dahlia said, but she wasn't. "You shoved me so hard I'm fucking bleeding."

"Gmm..." the boy groaned. His voice came out as a whisper. "M'sorry."

"You're sorry?!"

"Fuck..."

"You're sorry?!" she said louder to get his attention.

"I'm sorry. Oh, shit..." Suddenly, he was roughly shoved into his side.

"How does that feel?! Huh?!"

"Clem...just give me a minute... Fuck..."

"No. I want you out _now_!"

"Just..." He didn't see himself moving for the next five minutes at least.

"Now, I said!"

Drake still wasn't moving and this infuriated her.

"GET OUT!" the girl screeched at the top of her lungs. She stood and went over to her purse, then pulled out her phone. "I'm ringing the police."

"Clem, don't! Please, don't!" Despite his bruises, he felt like the cops would side with Dahlia because she was a lady. He yelled through clenched teeth as he straightened. "I'm going. I'm going, okay? Fuck," he cursed as he got onto his feet. He wiped the water from his eyes so that he could see, then he sort of limped over to his bag and picked it up. Drake let go of his breath through pursed lips.

"Get out! I hate you!" Clementine yelled and she gave him one last shove.

He managed to catch himself on the door frame, then he kept going. "Fucking bitch." He walked outside and slammed the front door behind himself.

* * *

It had taken every ounce of strength Drake had to keep himself away from Tad's and Walmart. Relapsing like that and falling back into that degrading lifestyle would only hurt Drake, not Dahlia. In fact, she would be extremely satisfied to see the boy ruin his life on her behalf. He'd end up on the streets doing the same old shit, begging for spare change just to keep the hunger pangs at bay and she would go on to be a rich, successful doctor knowing that she was the last good thing he'd ever had in his life. That's what she wanted and he refused to give her that, but damn if it wasn't hard!

Instead, he'd settled for the gay nightclub he'd grown so accustomed to while staying with Gemini. Speaking of Gemini, he could've called him, he supposed, but he didn't want to be around anyone right now — not anyone who would pry and ask him a thousand questions about what had happened. He didn't want to think about any of that. He just wanted to drink his pain away before he changed his mind about not using Triple C's.

God, he was so fucked! He literally had nowhere to go and no one who would want him. Whether he did Charlie or not, he would be back on the streets. Now that he knew the truth about Dahlia, he recalled every warning Ricardo had given to him regarding her. He had been right all along, but it was too late to go back there. Clementine had turned him against his best friends — the only people who had had his back for the last three years — and now he was alone. Just like she wanted. Drake looked like such a fool!

He'd made his mistakes and he knew he had to live with them now. He'll have to figure it all out and get his life straight on his own. Not tonight, though. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight.

"Drake?"

The young man had done his usual, fucked up routine of flirting with a few guys so that they would buy him drinks, then he'd chased them all away by drunkenly unloading all of his baggage. He couldn't remember how many times he had done this, but he was so wasted that he didn't even hear the person who was saying his name. Instead, he had his head hidden in his arms like he was napping, which was almost true. He was very close to passing out.

"Drake," the voice said again. "Hey, Drake. Drake!"

Finally, the young man lifted his head, but his eyelids hung heavily over his pupils. He sniffled as he looked around with confusion.

"Jesus..."

Drake blinked a few times until his eyes managed to focus on Josh — not his brother, but the Josh he'd hooked up with in the parking lot. Suddenly, his drunk self thought he had the most brilliant idea.

"I haven't seen you in a minute. Is Gemini here, too? I didn't see him on the dance floor." He turned towards the crowd as if to search for their mutual friend.

"Canwegetouttahere?" Drake slurred, wasting no time.

Josh gave him a quick once-over. "Are you okay?"

The young man's glazed eyes sparkled and he let out a short chuckle through his nostrils as if Josh had just said something cute. He flashed the hipster a smile that he knew he wouldn't be able to resist. At least, that's what he hoped was happening because it was actually incredibly hard to hold his eyes open. Drake touched Josh's bicep as a way of persuasion. Just like he'd been taught by a lot of important men in his life, he was using sex as a means of manipulation. "Let'sgobacktoyourplace, yeah?" His fingers slid down Josh's arm gently so that his touch brought chills up on the boy's skin.

Once he grazed over his wrist, Josh took his hand in his, then helped him out of the chair. "Is this your bag?"

"Mm-hmm." Drake grabbed it. Thankfully, he was still conscious enough to be careful with it.

He leaned on Josh, who guided him out the front doors and to his car. Josh opened the door and helped him inside, then he buckled the seatbelt for him. As he leaned across the boy, Drake put his hand on the sober guy's cheek and pressed their lips together.

* * *

Josh, being the gentleman that he was, had tried his best to resist all of Drake's attempts to have sex. Why was Drake doing this? Well, the drinks of course, for one thing, but also because he wanted to hurt Dahlia the way she had hurt him. Would Dahlia ever find out about this? No, probably not, but he had to do _some_ thing out of spite before he gave up and got high again. In addition to these nonsensical reasons, he was also grateful that Josh had taken him in because — let's face it — if he would've had to go back to the streets, he would've _undoubtedly_ relapsed. In a way, it was almost like he owed this hipster his life. He'd just have to settle for his body for now.

The second they had arrived at Josh's home, Josh had attempted to make something to sober his houseguest up. Drake had faced quite a bit of resistance before the chubby suspenders- and bowtie-wearing man finally gave in to his seductive teases and rather blunt advances. The two had made out in a hot and heavy manner in the kitchen. Hands were all over the place as they tore at each other's clothes impatiently. As they did this, Josh was forcing him to back up until Drake ran into the kitchen table. Without having to say it, it became clear that the hipster was a top. His guest didn't mind. After Josh lubed up, his sex partner laid his back against the tabletop and lifted his legs so that the man could support them. Immediately after that, Josh started the penetration.

Drake's breathing was heavy and he was sweating already with much help from the alcohol. He put on a show and started touching himself, which Josh enjoyed watching just as much as Drake enjoyed doing. _More_ , in fact, because the guy was only five pumps before-

"...Did you just...?"

Josh was panting hard. He averted his eyes, but Drake could see shame and humiliation all over his face. For a moment, the young man just laid there because he didn't know what else to do. He felt embarrassed _for_ Josh. He knew what sexual ridicule felt like and he didn't want the man to feel bad about it. He was a little irritated that he was unable to get off, but there were much bigger things to worry about right now. Josh's pride was severely wounded. Drake pushed himself up, then reached for his boxers and stepped into the legs.

"Sorry," Josh stuttered finally as he watched his guest redress. Apologizing made things feel even weirder if that was even possible.

"No, it's okay."

"It's just been...a minute," he admitted.

"Don't worry about it." The awkwardness was almost enough to sober him up. "Maybe I should eat after all if that offer's still..."

"Yeah, of course."

"That'll give you some time to recharge and we can go again later."

Did he want to go again? No. However, now there was a pride thing involved and things would feel awkward and uncomfortable until Josh redeemed himself. Drake was willing to let the man use him to do that. The hipster actually seemed surprised that his guest hadn't ran out on him. He was grateful that Drake was willing to give him another chance.

"Um, where's...where the bathroom?" the young man asked quietly.

"It's just right around the corner to your left."

"Thanks." Drake left him and isolated himself in solitude. After he cleaned up, he wasn't quite ready to go back out there to Josh, so he sat down on the edge of the tub and pulled out his cell phone. The first message was from "Ricardo." It was a long paragraph filled with more fucked up shit. "He" knew about Drake and Dahlia's break-up already because she had apparently changed her relationship status on Facebook to single. "Ricky" couldn't help but gloat and say how he wasn't surprised that she had dumped his sorry ass and he was surprised that it had actually taken so long. He told Drake not to go crawling back to him and to figure shit out on his own. Drake couldn't really blame him for that, he supposed.

He had a couple of messages from both Samantha and Brett. They were worried obviously and he didn't want them to think he was laying in a ditch somewhere choking on his own vomit, so he actually responded in a group message.

 **Drake Parker: srry i havnt res. ondrd in ok**

 **Brett Monty: where r u**

 **Drake Parker: w tjis friwns**

 **Brett Monty: what**

Drake was aware that his typing was shit. His vision was blurry and he couldn't press the correct buttons, so instead, he went through his contacts and called Brett, who answered after the first ring.

"Drake?"

"Heysorry. I'malildrunk. Sorry."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, Drake, it's Samantha." Apparently, they had him on speaker phone. "Where are you?"

"I'muh...withafriend."

"What happened?" asked Brett.

"Thingsgotawkward soI'mhidinginthebathroom untilIeat."

"What?" He seemed confused. "No, I mean, earlier today with Dahlia."

"Oh..." He was uncomfortable sitting like he was, so he carefully scooted back so that he was sitting in the tub with his feet in the air and his back leaning against the wall. "Yeah, youguyswereright. Shewasfucking ashit tonofotherguyssincethestartof ourrelationship. Literally herstudygroupnever even existed."

"Shit..."

"I'm so sorry she did that, Drake," Samantha said.

"S'okay." Despite saying this, he suddenly let go of a sob. Even though he was drunk, his heart was still aching and talking about it right now wasn't helping anything. He sniffled as tears fell down his face.

There was a pause, then Brett's voice came through. "Drake, why don't you tell us where you are?"

"I'minthebathtub." His voice cracked when he said this.

"Whose _house_ are you at?"

Trying to get anything coherent out of a wasted Drake was an aggravating and impossible feat. Brett and Sam heard their friend curse, then there was a bit of commotion before they heard him vomit. This went on for a good minute or so before Drake's hurling dissipated into sobs and whimpers. The couple tried to get his attention, but he had dropped his phone in the process of getting to the toilet and he forgot all about it.

"Babe, look at this." Samantha held up her own cell phone, where she saw that Drake was posting Dahlia's dirty pictures on his Facebook page.

"What the fuck? Drake," he said into the phone, trying to get the boy's attention again.

"He's been on the phone with us. I don't think he posted these."

Brett's forehead wrinkled. "You think Dahlia posted these to make him look bad? She would do that to herself?"

"I wouldn't put anything past Dahlia anymore after this."

"He could get arrested for something like this." After a moment, Brett hung up the phone, then he called Drake back. Thankfully, the phone ringing attracted Drake's attention.

When he answered, he was trying to pretend he hadn't just been bawling his eyes out over a toilet. "Hey. Sorry, Ididn'tmeantohangup."

"Drake, listen," Brett started, "Dahlia is posting pictures of herself in her underwear on your Facebook account so that you look like an asshole."

"Hmm?"

"You need to go in and change the password and delete those photos right now." After a moment of silence, he said, "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

"Um...yeah..." Clearly, he didn't.

Brett sighed with frustration. "Give me your Facebook password."

"It's...Ican'tremember."

"Come on, Drake."

"Shechangeditwhen wegot together. Ineverhad to putitin. Italwaysjust cameuponmyphone."

"Can you still get in it from your phone then?"

The young man pulled the phone away from his ear and went to Facebook. Sure enough, he still had access to his page and the first thing that popped up was a group of photos of Dahlia half-dressed. Above them was a paragraph-long caption of "Drake" spewing hatred about Clementine and encouraging his Facebook friends to enjoy the pictures.

"Mmmthefuck? Did I...? Ididn't post these. Mmm," he groaned tiredly. "Holdon. Igottago." Before Brett and Samantha could protest, he hung up. He fiddled around his Facebook for a couple minutes, but ultimately came to the conclusion that he was way too drunk to remember how to delete photos. Drake pushed himself out of the floor, then stumbled into the kitchen, where Josh was standing in front of a convectional oven toasting two meatball subs.

"It's almost done," he said.

"Canyoudeletesomething?"

"What?" the boy asked with confusion, then he was handed Drake's phone. "What is this?"

"Canyoudeletethat? Iforget how."

"You posted these?"

"No, my exispissedand Ithinkshe'stryingto make me look bad."

"Damn." After a moment, he said, "Okay, they're gone."

"Changemy password, please."

"What do you want me to change it to?"

"Idon'tcare," he said. "What'syourmiddlename?"

"It's Leonard. I hate it."

"Usethat. Shewon'tguessthat," he said. "Howoldareyou?"

"Twenty-seven."

"Leonard27. Canyou writethatdown? I'llforget."

"Your ex is psycho," Josh said. "Does she know your security questions? She'll probably be able to get back in if she knows you well." Josh spent the next few minutes helping Drake fix his Facebook before anything worse could happen, then he gave the boy his phone back.

"Thanks. Sorry."

At that moment, there was a _ding_. Josh went over to the miniature oven and pulled out the subs while Drake opened the refrigerator in search of something to drink. His eyes immediately spotted the beer. He grabbed one and twisted it open.

When Josh turned, he saw this. "Maybe you should stop drinking for a while," he suggested meekly because he didn't want to come off as a bossy, judgmental prude.

"Oh. Sorry. I'mrude," Drake slurred, then he pointed to the bottle. "CanI havethis?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Weren't you just throwing up in there?"

"Ijustwanna getthroughtodayandthen I'llstopdrinking. Ipromise."

"Okay," he said. "You can help yourself to anything in the fridge. I got an extra toothbrush from the dentist the other day. You probably wanna brush your teeth, right?" If they were gonna try having sex again liked Drake had said, he definitely didn't want to kiss someone with vomit breath.

"Yesplease." Drake followed him into his bedroom and watched him search through some things on his dresser until he found the goodie bag from the dentist. "Thankyou. You'rereallynice."

Josh gave him a nod. "Toothpaste's in the top drawer under the sink. Actually," he added, "you don't mind if I hop in the shower really quick, do you? I took ecstasy back at the club and it's making me sweat." After Drake shook his head, he said, "You can go ahead and brush your teeth, though. I'll turn on the tv for you. I've got Netflix."

After Drake brushed his teeth, he met Josh in the living room. The young man knelt down in front of his backpack and unzipped it. His kittens were asleep, so he woke them by gently pulling them out of the bag so that they could stretch their legs.

"You brought cats..." Josh was dumbfounded when he saw them. Not that it was a bad thing, but this was definitely one of the strangest hook-ups he'd ever had.

"Yeahsorry. Thisokay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I just — that was the last thing I was expecting you to pull out of your bag." He glanced back at the television and clicked on Netflix.

I'msorry. I'mbeingsorude. I'mgonnafeelreally badaboutallthis tomorrow."

"No, it's seriously okay. I love cats," the man assured. "There're more meatballs in there if you wanna feed them, or — I don't really have cat food or anything."

"Thankyou. You'rereally nice," he told him again.

He was handed the remote. While Josh showered, the boy took him up on his offer of meatballs and allowed his kittens to eat and drink, then he grabbed another beer and turned on _The Office_.

* * *

Drake was on top of the hipster and he was moving his lips away from Josh's mouth and over his chin. He got lower and lower and maybe he was rushing a little. He was just so exhausted and it was a miracle that he hadn't passed out yet. Josh probably wouldn't need long anyway. Hopefully, he could hold out long enough so that it was believable when Drake faked it. Or maybe he could actually get him off this time. That would be nice.

Drake stimulated him orally, then the man got behind him and they went at it doggy style. Just like Drake had feared, he wasn't feeling any sort of pleasure. He was so tired that he couldn't keep that bored expression off of his face, so it was a good thing that they went about the sex this way this time.

Or maybe it wasn't Josh at all. Maybe despite everything, he didn't want to fuck anyone other than Dahlia. Okay, well, it was definitely partly Josh, too. He will for sure have to fake it.

As he waited for the right time, his eyes scanned the room. Josh was kind of messy, but it was a normal messy. He had a few Polaroid cameras on his dresser, which wasn't at all surprising considering what type of person he was. Honestly, Drake thought they were pretty cool and he almost said something about them, but he managed to stop himself just in time. He didn't want Josh to know he wasn't having as good of a time as he was.

As his attention moved to the walls, the first thing that he noticed was the giant elephant tapestry. _That's pretty dope._ Next, his eyes came across a frame. He couldn't see incredibly well in the darkness and in his drunkenness, but it contained a diploma of some sort. There was another picture frame nearby and Drake's heart dropped. It was hard to see, but there were two people and one was definitely Josh. He was kissing another guy at the beach. The young man squinted to be sure, then he looked around some more and saw two more pictures of the couple together.

Used to, he never would've cared, but now he knew what it was like to have an unfaithful lover. It was devastating. It was his karma, he supposed, that Clem had done that to him after he'd slept with a married woman, slept with a married man (probably several honestly), cheated on his first love with Charlie (metaphorically of course, but it still counts), slept with the love of his step-brother's life (multiple times) and cheated on his girlfriend with literally any guy who'd give him a few dollars. He was tired of being this person.

Josh furrowed his brows when Drake suddenly pulled away from him and got up. "What's wrong?" he asked, then he saw the boy put on his boxers. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I havetogo." Drake put his jeans on fast and was even shocked himself that he didn't fall.

"You weren't enjoying it?"

He picked up his shirt and belt and made his way into the living room with the hipster trailing right behind him.

"You're really leaving?"

"You didn't tellme youhada boyfriend." Drake got his shoes on and finally started to pull his shirt over his head as he searched for his cell phone.

"I thought you knew," said Josh.

"YouthoughtI knew?!" He was still incredibly drunk, so this sentence didn't make much sense to him. How was he supposed to know again? "Howthe _fuck_ wasI supposedtoknow?!" Finally, he found his phone. Now he was able to go.

"I thought maybe Gemini would've told you." When Drake opened the front door, Josh grabbed his bicep. "Look, Drake, it's not what you think. We both-"

"Don't fucking touch me!" he snapped violently as he yanked himself free. He didn't give Josh time to say anything else before he hurried across the yard, down the sidewalk and out of view.

* * *

"Okay, thankyou," Drake said, still slurring his words.

"Where are you?"

"I'mliterally walkingupyour driveway." He put his phone away when the person on the other end hung up. When he got closer to the house, he saw the front door open, revealing Dee. "Hey."

"Are you okay?" the man asked as he allowed him to enter his home.

"Yeah. I'msorry. Thanksforlettingme stay. Ijust needaplaceto crash. Justfortonight."

"Shit, dude, how much have you had to drink?"

"Mmm..." He shrugged.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Drake as he plopped down on the couch with exhaustion. "Exceptmywhole lifeisfalling apart."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Nothanks."

Dee sat down next to him. "You wanna talk about it?"

Instead of answering, Drake said, "Pleasepleaseplease don'ttellRickyI'm hereplease."

"He's been really worried about you." Dee saw the boy roll his eyes. "No, seriously."

"Hejust messagedme onmywayhere tellingme hewishedIwasdead."

"What?" His brows furrowed. "No, he's literally been so upset about you being gone that he hasn't left the house."

Too tired to argue, Drake pulled out his phone and showed him the messages.

"What the fuck?" This confused Dee because 1). his boyfriend obsessed over Drake's well-being to the point where it was getting in the way of their relationship and 2). because Ricardo didn't seem like the type to talk to anyone this way. Maybe he didn't know his boyfriend as well as he thought he did.

"Sorry, Ishouldn'thave showedyou." He took his phone back and hoped that this didn't come between the new couple. "He'sareally good guy. Ideserveallthis honestly. It'sallthetruth."

"Damn, I can't believe he said those things." He hadn't had the chance to read much, but he saw where "Ricardo" basically wished him dead and he mentioned something about a truck stop and Drake being a whore.

"S'okay."

"So what brought you here?" Dee asked. He didn't mean it in a mean way. He just wanted to know what had happened.

Drake went on to explain the note Brett found, then about when he'd followed his fiancée and seen her with another guy. He went into detail about it because he hadn't been able to talk about it with anyone and the alcohol got him talking and talking. By the time he was finished, he was crying again and Dee had him in a half-hug as he rubbed his back.

* * *

The rush of vomit roaring up Drake's esophagus like a raging river is what woke him. It wasn't until mid-puke that he was fully aware of what he was doing. He was leaning over the side of the bed and hurling his guts out right there on the floor, only he wasn't back home at Dahlia's and he wasn't at the gay nightclub, which was the last place he could remember being. Instead, he knew where he was. He was in his bedroom...at Ricardo's.

Drake spat in the floor, then quietly cursed. "Fuck..."

Maybe this had all been one bad dream that he was just waking up from. Maybe he and Ricky and Julio never fought. Maybe he never moved in with Clementine. Maybe he never proposed to her. Maybe she never cheated on him after all. Obviously, this was all wishful thinking, but it would've been nice.

When Drake felt that he could hold back another round for a few seconds at least, he quickly got out of bed and bolted down the hall and into the bathroom. Julio must've heard him because, moments later, he pushed the bathroom door open.

"How much did you have to drink last night?" That was the first thing he said to him after having not seen him in a little over a month.

Drake was coughing and spitting into the toilet, so he couldn't answer him. Even if he could've, he couldn't remember how much he had drank.

Julio opened the cabinet and pulled out a pill bottle, the sound of which gave Drake a headache. He poured two of the Advils into his hand, filled a tiny paper cup with water, then passed them over to the boy. "Here."

"Thanks," Drake managed through his panting. He took the medicine. It took a lot of willpower to keep it down because swallowing pills always reminded him of Charlie and the sickening taste. "How did I get here?" He sounded like a lost child and it was pathetic in a way.

"You don't remember?" When his friend shook his head, he asked, "What's the last thing you _do_ remember?"

"I was at this club."

"Oh, boy." Julio sat down on the edge up the tub, lowering himself close to his level as if he had bad news to deliver. "You don't remember going to Dee's?"

Drake's eyes squinted with confusion. "No." _No wonder I ended up here. Why would I have thought that Dee wouldn't tell Ricardo?_ "God, I'm a dumbass," he said regretfully.

Julio couldn't stop a you-just-wait snort when he said, "Yeah." When the pitiful young man looked up at him with confusion, he asked again, "You really don't remember anything?"

"No," he said and he sounded almost scared. "I was at the club and this guy was loading me up on drinks and I think I gave him a blowjob and went back so someone else would buy me drinks. I don't remember anything that happened after that."

"Shit, Drake..." Julio said sadly. "Dee said you told him you broke up with Dahlia because she was cheating on you."

"She was," he said. "The whole time. Everything was a fucking joke to her."

"I'm sorry. Shit." Julio didn't know how to tell him this next news. "Dee said he was trying to comfort you because you were a wreck and you were crying. Do you remember that?"

"No," he said with frustration. He was beginning to weep again. "I don't remember anything."

"He said..." Sigh. "He said you kissed him."

"What?" Drake felt his heart drop.

"He said he pushed you away, but you kept trying to get him to sleep with you."

The hungover boy felt sick. Once again, he felt puke slide up his throat, so he turned back towards the toilet and threw up some more. He was full-on crying when he was done.

"Dee said you got kinda violent when he turned you down. You started breaking shit. He said he tried to get you to stop, but you wouldn't, so he eventually ended up having to hit you," Julio said.

Drake reached up and touched his eye. He had noticed that there was a sharp pain in it when he'd woken, but his mind had been so all over the place that he hadn't had time to really question it.

"He said you started crying really hard then, so he helped you over to the couch and gave you a blanket and he called Ricardo. You were asleep by the time he got there, so he just carried you to the car and brought you home."

"I don't remember," Drake said through his tears. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, but it happened. You did that and you can't take it back. My brother was really pissed and he and Dee got into it. He's just upset about everything."

"Fuck," Drake sobbed, hanging his head with shame. "He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Julio disagreed. "He's just very mad and very sad and very disappointed." Then he said, "You have to talk to him."

"He's gonna yell at me."

"Probably," Julio said honestly, "but can you really blame him?"

Drake wiped away some of the blurriness from his eyes, but the clear vision didn't last long at all. His friend patiently waited with him and stayed quiet while Drake worked through his racing thoughts.

After a full minute, his quiet, childlike voice choked out, "I don't want him to hit me."

Julio was honestly taken aback by these words. Ricardo almost never hit him. When he did, it was just the normal roughhousing that boys tended to do. He wondered what his friend had gone through while he had been away. Other than the black eye from Dee, Drake had a dark bruise on his jaw from when Clementine had gotten a couple good punches in. Julio also noticed a plethora of bruises stretching up his forearms. He knew that Dahlia was physically abusive towards him, which was one of the many reasons he and Ricardo had hated her.

"He's not gonna hit you," the young man assured.

"He's gonna beat the shit out of me."

"No, he won't. He's not like that and you know it."

"Maybe you just haven't seen him that way before, but I have." He brushed his fingers through his bangs. "God, I didn't mean to," he continued to weep. "I'm such a piece of shit. Why did I do that?"

"Are you into Dee?" Julio asked cautiously.

"No! I promise I'm not!"

"I told Ricky about what you told me that week you were staying with Gemini."

Drake sniffled. "What?" There was so much going through his mind that he didn't remember the conversation his friend was referring to.

"When we talked about you using sex as a form of payment and about Gemini's theory that maybe you needed to feel needed," he said. "And also about how you feel like men only hang around you because they wanna fuck you."

"Name one guy who doesn't."

"Me," Julio stated matter-of-factly. "Because I'm your best fucking friend and I don't expect you to do anything for me. I expect you to do things for yourself, like work on your sobriety and stay away from abusive relationships because you don't deserve that shit. The reason all these guys wanna fuck you is because you keep hanging out with a bunch of gay guys and you're an attractive guy. When it comes to your dad and our high school gym coach, you know, I don't know what the fuck they were doing honestly, but not everyone is like them, Drake," Julio said. "And the men you were fucking on the streets and at the truck stop only fucked you because _you_ offered it, which, again, I truly believe spawns from shit that your dad and the coach did to you. Not everyone is out to get you, bruh."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Drake whined. "Everything's so confusing. Sex is so confusing."

"Obviously, I can't imagine what you've gone through in your life and what goes on in your head, but I feel like — if you're _sure_ you're not into Dee — then maybe you tried to fuck him as payment for letting you stay. The fact that you said you blew someone for a few drinks just before proves this theory. You were clearly in a mindset of manipulation in the form of sex. I feel like this is a very common thing for you."

"I don't mean to," the young man said. "I don't think I mean to."

Julio frowned and gave him a few moments of silence to cry and mull over these idea, then he said, "What are you gonna tell Ricardo?"

"I just wish I could go back."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to," he said again.

"I know."

Just then, they could hear raised voices from right downstairs in the kitchen. Worry flashed across Drake's eyes.

"Is Dee _here_?!"

"Yeah. They've just been trying to...work through some things."

Drake put his hand over his eyes with regret. "Fuck. I fuck everything up."

"You can try to fix this."

"I'll just make everything worse," he disagreed. "Just like I always do."

These weren't Drake's words, Julio noticed. These were Martin's words coming out through Drake. These were Dahlia's words poisoning his mind. These were tell-tale signs. Drake was about to have an "episode." That's what the Santos brothers always called them anyway. Episodes were vicious waves of self-loathing that tended to lead to panic attacks, relapses and suicidal urges.

"Shut up," Julio said. "Do not start spiraling. Look at me." When his friend did, he said in a more serious tone, "Do _not_ start spiraling."

Drake nodded, "Okay." He sniffled and wiped his eyes although this didn't stop his tears. "Okay. I just need to...I just need to think."

He took a few breaths as an attempt to regulate his breathing, but the yelling emanating from downstairs wouldn't allow it. He couldn't handle being yelled at like normal people could. With Drake, verbal abuse was a huge trigger and there have been times when he had forgotten where he was completely and suffered through a vivid, realistic flashback of his life with his father. The second he saw Ricardo's face, he was going to crumble and he knew it. He was terrified just thinking about it. Even his fingers were trembling.

Finally, he spoke up. "I need-" He wiped his eyes, then sniffled. "I need to know everything I did last night before I face him. I need to look at who I was texting," he said. "I left my phone on the nightstand, I think. Could you get it, please?"

"Sure." Julio stood, then made his way down the hall towards Drake's room. His eyes immediately landed on the humongous pile of puke that was less than a foot away from the trash can they had left for their intoxicated friend. "Oh, come on, Drake. Damn," he said to himself. Julio didn't see the phone on the nightstand, so he checked the drawer, underneath the bed and around the pillows, but still he came up short. He made his way back to the bathroom to give Drake the news and have him check his pockets to be sure, but the second the turned that corner... "Hey, I couldn't-"

Drake was nowhere to be found.

* * *

 **Ricardo: -AND U ARE A STUPID PIECE OF SHIT AND I HOPE YOU DIE!**

Drake choked out a sob, then he set the phone back down in the corner rack so that it wouldn't get wet underneath the running water. He didn't have shampoo or conditioner or soap or anything, but he didn't really smell anyway. Besides, after he got back out there, he could make enough money for that in no time.

He knew he needed to go back to being the person he was on the streets and he needed to act like he was into it. However, he couldn't get himself to stop fucking crying. If he could just stop his whining, he could make some money and then go get high. _It's that fucking simple, Drake._

He didn't want to do this. He did not want to do this at all. He literally had no one left. Every single person hated him. He hated himself. He just wanted to die. Maybe "Ricardo's" suggestion wasn't such a bad one. That way, he wouldn't have to go back out there and degrade himself. He didn't have to let anyone touch him anymore. He didn't have to go hungry or cold. This was a dangerous way of thinking and he needed to steer away from it before he actually acted on those thoughts. That's why, after he turned off the shower and slipped his old clothes back on, he picked up his phone and called Dahlia.

She took her sweet time to answer. "What the fuck do you want?" she asked.

"Clem..." he cracked out pathetically. He had tried so hard to keep his voice steady, but it was impossible. Drake broke down into sobs. Although no one could see him, he hid his face in his hand and rested his forehead against the tile wall.

"You rung me so you could waste my time making me listen to you blubber away?"

He knew he needed to say something before she hung up, but he broke down. "I..." It was hard to breathe. He managed to get a hold of his voice long enough to get out an, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" She sounded disgusted.

"I'm so sorry."

"You're at the truck stop, aren't you?" she guessed. "You're only sorry because your life is absolute rubbish without me — just like I always told you it would be, mind you. You're a bloody hypocrite. You're the one who broke up with me because you couldn't handle the fact that I was just doing to you exactly what you did to me. You're the one who left. _You_ did this and now you're standing there praying that I'll forgive you and let you come back home so you don't have to shag some strange old man for a few dollars and go buy those pills that hardly even work anymore. That's it, yeah?" She was spot on and he couldn't deny it.

"Yeah," he cracked. "I'm so sorry, babe. I'm an idiot. Please, take me back."

"Get lost, you lousy wanker."

"Clem, please. I'm begging you. I made a mistake-"

"Yeah, you do that a lot," she interrupted.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such a fuck-up," he said. "Please, let me come home. Please, take me back."

Her voice was dripping with venom when she said, "Drake, I wouldn't take you back if you were the last guy on earth. We're over. Do you hear me? You ruined us. _You_ did. Just like you ruin everything. You are a fucking cancer, Drake. You squeeze the life out of literally everyone around you. You destroy _everything_ and you can't do anything right, you sodding cock-up."

As she shattered his heart into a trillion pieces, he put his trembling hand over his mouth as an attempt to keep himself quiet. He felt weak and he slowly slid his back down the shower wall until he came to rest on his bottom.

"What the fuck are you still doing here, Drake? What you did to Meelah wasn't enough? What about your mom? Or your dad? Or me? Name one person you haven't hurt. Go ahead. Name one."

He couldn't stop the sob from escaping his throat.

"You're good for nothing except making everyone around you completely miserable," she spat, "so why don't you do us all a favor and fucking kill yourself, yeah?"

He was bawling so hard that he couldn't respond. This was the second person in the past five minutes who had wished him dead. Never had he ever felt _this_ undeserving of taking up the space of a human body.

"Just tell me what you want," he managed through his sobbing. "I'll do anything for you."

"Are you deaf?! I just bloody told you what to do."

Drake choked out more sobs and he couldn't stop them even if he wanted. They came with so much force that snot dropped from both nostrils. "Please," he begged, his voice high in pitch. "I love you. I love you."

"Goodbye, Drake. Don't call me again."

When she hung up, he dropped his arm onto his lap. There was no one else he could call. He had no more supporters. The streets were all he had left and that wasn't a life he wanted.

* * *

"I'm sorry, bro," Julio said for the hundredth time that morning. "I can't believe I fell for that. I should've known better."

"It's not your fault," Ricardo assured as he gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze. "You're sure he didn't mention anyone or anywhere he might've gone to?"

"No, I just told him what he did and he got really upset and he was scared that you were gonna beat him up."

"Why would he think that? I would never do that."

"Are you sure about that?" Dee said suddenly. He had been here all morning trying to talk through the issues that he and his boyfriend were having, but things were still unsettled. "Drake showed me the Facebook messages you sent him."

"What messages?" both Julio and his brother said at the same time.

"The ones where you called him a whore and told him to go kill himself."

Julio's head whipped towards his brother, who looked just as surprised. "What?"

"I never said that."

"He showed me. I read them with my own eyes, Ricardo."

"I never said that!" He pulled out his own cell phone and opened up his messages to Drake for proof. "The last thing I sent was, like, a month ago." After double-checking the date, he said, "Yeah, a month ago on the dot, and I tried to make amends." He held out his phone, but Dee didn't take it.

"I know what I saw," the man said. "I didn't think you were that kind of person."

"I'm not!"

"It just doesn't make sense because you've literally been obsessing over him the entire time he was gone. I get that you're worried, but he's a grown man and, every time I'm with you, I can tell you're thinking about him," Dee said. "The night I met you, you were really drunk and you told me you slept with one of your guy friends. Was it Drake?"

There was a hesitation, then Ricardo said, "Yes. Look, I know how it sounds, but-"

"So it would make sense that you got mad and sent those texts if you were jealous of that other girl."

"I'm not jealous of Dahlia!" He was in disbelief that this was even a topic of conversation.

Dee had a quieter and more serious tone of voice. "Are you in love with Drake, Ricardo?"

"No!" he denied sincerely. "He's just my best friend and I care about him. You have no idea what he's been through and what he's capable of doing right now."

"Then tell me!" Dee pleaded. "All I want is to be able to talk to you!"

"I want to — believe me, I want to — but I can't tell you this and I need you to understand that."

The man sighed sadly. "We've only been dating for two months, so I know that I'm not higher up on your priority list than your friends right now, but you make me feel like I'm not a priority at all — like I mean nothing to you."

"Babe, you mean a lot to me," Ricardo tried. "I've just been going through so much shit right now."

"Then open up to me," he begged. "That's what I'm here for."

Ricky was quiet for a moment as he contemplated his next move. He had a tough decision to make and only seconds to make it. Telling Dee about Drake's past would piss Drake off, but not telling him would piss off Dee. He was going to lose someone here. He just had to choose: Dee or Drake?

His voice was somber when he said, "I can't."

Dee didn't respond right away, so maybe he wouldn't leave. It would be a shame if he did and Drake didn't return because then it would mean that Ricardo had lost two very important people. He wished he knew where his friend had gone. He could be literally anywhere right now doing literally anything. He wished he had a secret tracker on him so that he could keep up with him at all times.

With that thought, he suddenly remembered something. His demeanor immediately changed to urgency and it was like he forgot about his current conversation with Dee completely as he stood up and made his way to the kitchen with a quiet, "That's it."

The other two looked on with confusion, then followed him.

"What's it?" Julio asked.

"Drake asked me a while ago to set up his phone so that I could always see his location."

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"Why would he do that?" Dee asked.

"Because he..." What was he supposed to say? Because Drake wanted him to know where he was in case he relapsed so that he could drag his ass back home and force him to clean up before he sucked some stranger's dick? "He just did."

Julio saw Dee roll his eyes as if his point had, once again, been proven. His brother was blowing this and it was hard to watch. However, he just wanted Drake back, too, so it was probably worth it.

"I found him!"

"Where?!" Julio asked.

"The fucking truck stop."

"Lemme get my shoes really quick." Julio went back to the living room.

"I guess you're going then," Dee said.

"I'm so sorry. I just have to pick him up, but if you wanna wait here, I'll be right back," Ricardo said. "Or I can call you and we'll get together to finish talking."

The man shook his head. "Don't bother."

"Dee..."

Julio entered the kitchen just in time to hear his brother's boyfriend say, "I hope everything works out for you." Dee gave Ricardo's hand one last squeeze, then said, "Bye." When he turned and noticed the youngest boy standing there, he said, "Tell Drake I'm sorry I hit him," then he was gone.

Julio stayed still and kept his eyes on the floor for several moments. When he finally looked up at his brother, he could tell that he was heartbroken. "I'm sorry," he offered.

Ricardo didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed his keys and headed out the front door.

* * *

Mrs. Hayfer was irritated by the time her husband Garrett finally came out of his tractor and got in her car. "It took you long enough. Should I go check and see if you've got another one of my former students hiding in there until I leave?"

He sighed. "When are you gonna get over that? I've told you a thousand times how sorry I was. Besides, you heard what he said. It was his fault and he didn't really give me a choice."

"He said that because he was scared of you."

"Why would he be scared of me?"

"Are you serious? Do you not remember what you did — how you humiliated him?"

"Yeah, well, he deserved all that."

"You're an asshole," she said as she put the car in drive.

"Stop by the bathroom. I've gotta take a leak." Then he tried, "How have you been?"

"The past three days have actually been rather peaceful without you there," Alice said bitterly.

They were on the verge of divorce and he knew it. Honestly, they had been on the verge of divorce for a long time now. It's a wonder that they had lasted so long.

"That appointment we have with the marriage counselor is this week, right?"

She kept it short. "Yep."

"You think he'll ask about Daniel."

Daniel is their son... _was_ their son. He had passed away eight years ago at the age of twenty-two.

"Probably," Alice replied.

They said nothing more until they reached the restrooms. Garrett said he'd be right back before disappearing inside the men's room. It was filthy and long overdue for a good cleaning. He would've believed that it had been abandoned had it not been for the toilet paper and paper towels being refilled. He never once saw an employee, though. As he approached the first stall, he saw what looked like piss all over the floor. The next one had urine all over the toilet seat. He didn't understand how people could be so gross. Garrett skipped the next stall due to it being occupied and the one after that looked like it was clogged. There was no toilet paper in the next one, but that was okay because he just needed to pee. Just before he stepped inside, his eyes moved over to the left when he heard some sort of quiet sound. The truck stop bathroom was pretty dim due to half the bulbs being blown and piles of dead bugs in the fixtures. Because of this, it took him a few moments before he noticed a hand hanging out of one of the showers.

Garrett made his way down there, then hung back a bit and asked, "Hey, everything okay in there?" He didn't receive a response. "Hey," he said louder. "Are you okay?" He kicked the hand that was creeping underneath the shower curtain and still got no reaction. Garrett was unsure about what he should do. He didn't want to open the curtain because the person might get mad if he's unclothed, but it could also be one of those junkies who always hang around the truck stop. The man squatted down and gripped the stranger's wrist, then checked for a pulse, which he found to be dangerously faint. "Shit! Hey!" he tried again, then he slid open the curtain.

He recognized the face immediately despite the black eye and large bruise on his cheek. It was his wife's former student. What was his name? Derrick? Drew? Whatever. It didn't matter. He was surprised to find him here. Alice had told him that he'd cleaned up. He definitely looked rough. He had bruises all up his forearms and his clothes were partially damp because the shower floor was still wet due to recent use.

"Hey, boy." He gave Drake's shoulder a shake, then he did it rougher. "Kid? Can you hear me?"

The young man remained unresponsive. A bright orange color caught Garrett's eyes as he searched around for — well, he didn't know what he was looking for. It was a pill bottle. He picked it up and read the bottle. They were muscle relaxants and the entire bottle was empty.

"Shit!" He immediately pulled out his cell phone and dialed the police. After giving the dispatcher his location and a quick summary of what his emergency was, he hung up, then went outside to his wife, who looked like she was about to say something snarky and accusatory about the length of time he'd been gone. He beat her to the punch. "Hey, you know that kid who was in your class? He took a whole bottle of muscle relaxers and he's passed out in the bathroom."

"What?"

"I think he tried to kill himself. I called the police already."

"Is he breathing?" Alice got out of the car and hurried after him.

"I don't know. I didn't check. His pulse is very faint, though."

When Mrs. Hayfer saw him, she said, "Oh my God! Drake! Drake!" She leaned closer to his mouth.

"Is he breathing?"

"He's breathing. Come on, Drake. Wake up." She patted his cheek. "Wake up." She gradually got harder and harder, but nothing was fazing the boy at all. Finally, she gave him a hard smack and he actually came to. "Oh, Drake, there you are! Stay awake, okay?"

He looked up at her with tired confusion. "No. Leavemealone." He started pushing her away, but he was too weak to really do anything.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" she scolded.

"Justgoaway."

"An ambulance is on the way," Garrett said.

"Goaway."

"You need to make him throw up," the man told his wife.

"Go! Away! Justleaveme!" He said and it was clear that his chest was bothering him in some way. He took in a breath after his outburst and clearly struggled quite a bit, then he said, "TouchmeandI'llbiteyourfuckingfingersoff."

Alice looked back at her husband. "How long did they say it would take to get here?" She got a clueless shrug as a reply.

"Justlemmego. Pleasejustlemmego." He was back to being unable to hold his eyes open.

"Stay with me, Drake! You hear me?!"

"Mm-mmmmmm." His no turned into a moan as he drifted off again.

"Drake?" She shook his shoulder as tears found their way to her eyes. "Drake!"

"Oh, shit..." Garrett brushed his fingers through his hair nervously. "I don't think he's breathing."

Alice leaned over to check this and discovered that her husband was correct. "Oh, fuck." She got onto her feet and started tugging Drake's arm. "Help me get him out! Help me get him out!"

The man helped her drag him out of the shower, then she got Drake on his back and started chest compressions. After several pumps, she opened his mouth, encircled his lips with her own, then breathed into his lungs.

"Come on, Drake!" she said as she went back to compressions. Tears were trailing across her cheeks like waterfalls as she began having flashbacks about Daniel, the son she hadn't been able to save. "Come on, Drake! Wake up!" She breathed into his mouth again. "Come on. Come on!" She kept going like this for another minute and a half, then Drake finally drew in a breath. "Oh, yes! There you go! There you go!"

"The color's coming back," Garrett said with relief.

"Where is the ambulance?!" She was still frazzled as she pulled Drake's head into her lap and cradled it.

"They should be here soon." He was trying to calm her despite his own hands trembling. If he had to pee before he came in here, now he _really_ had to go.

As the minutes passed a small crowd of about three other men gathered and offered assistance and comfort. Garrett filled them in on how he had found him and what he had taken. The conversation actually helped him feel much better, but it wasn't long before he heard his wife's frantic voice again.

"Drake? Drake? Hey! Breathe! Hey! Come on!" Within seconds, she was performing CPR once again. After a full two minutes passed, she was sweating and exhausted and her husband noticed this, so he stepped in.

"I got it. It's okay. I got it." He was heavier and his compressions were much more forceful. He wasn't even five pumps in when everyone heard the distinct sound of a rib cracking.

"Damn, man, that's too hard!" someone said.

"They're supposed to break," came from another guy.

"Have you been counting?" Alice asked. "You stop after thirty so I can breathe into his mouth." When it was her turn, she performed the rescue breaths, then her husband continued. "Come on, Drake! Wake up!"

When she gazed down at her former student, her eyes were so blurry that he almost looked like her son Daniel. It was like she was having déjà vu. She's been here before. She's attempted CPR before. She failed before. She wasn't going to fail this time. She refused to let another young man lose his life to suicide. Drake had so much to live for. Daniel had had so much to live for.

Four minutes had passed and Drake was still unconscious with no pulse and no breathing. Alice heard a man behind her whisper to a fellow bystander, "He's gone. He's not gonna make it."

She cried harder at this. She didn't even like Drake. She'd never liked Drake. However, Mrs. Hayfer had never wished him dead. Well, maybe for a split second when she'd found him with her husband, but it wasn't Drake's fault and that was something she was still having to remind herself every morning. He had been through so much. He had survived life with his father, a horrible, abusive, drunken monster who had nothing better to do than torture his young son. He had stood up to a man he feared more than anything and he had defeated him. Drake had wanted to live so badly, whether he knew it or not, that he had killed the man who had given him life. He'd suffered through all of the cruelty and bullshit and he'd survived only to end up here now. She couldn't begin to imagine the demons that had been haunting him his entire life, but now he was giving up and she hated him for it. Now he wanted to die so badly that he swallowed every last pill in that bottle and hid in the shower at the truck stop, where no one should've seen him. Death was after him and Death has been after him for a very long time. He escaped his dad. He got through the money situation back at the hotel with that thug named Dev. She didn't know what else, but she was sure he'd been close to death other times due to his risky lifestyle. Finally, Death was cashing in. He was coming to collect.

"Where is the goddamn ambulance?!"

"I think I hear them!" One of the onlookers dashed for the entrance. It was another minute before he returned with two paramedics, who quickly assessed the situation and asked questions.

"Prepping the AED," one said while the other took over the CPR.

While this was going on, Ricardo's car was approaching the turn into the truck stop.

"Oh, shit, look," Julio pointed when he saw the flashing lights.

"Fuck..." Ricardo felt his heart free-fall into his stomach. He knew they were for Drake.

There was only one ambulance and one police car present, which probably meant that whatever had happened had _just_ happened and they were early. That's what he hoped anyway. After they parked their car, they managed to get inside the bathroom because the officer was so busy with crowd control in a direction were a large group of truckers were standing. There weren't too many people inside — maybe five or so. They pushed their way to the front of the bystanders and that's when they saw Drake on the floor. The boy's body jerked as he received his first electric shock from the defibrillator.

"Oh, shit..." Julio said.

"Julio Santos?" came an unsure voice from behind him. When the two brothers turned, they saw Mrs. Hayfer, their former teacher. She was still crying and clinging onto Garrett.

"What happened?" Ricardo asked.

"My husband found him. There was an empty bottle of muscle relaxers beside him. I did CPR and he came to, but then he stopped breathing again. I couldn't get him to breathe. I'm so sorry."

"How long has he been like this?"

Garrett spoke up because he saw that his wife was too broken up. "Maybe six or seven minutes."

"Fuck," came out of his mouth again.

Drake's fingers and lips were blue and his body jerked limply with each chest compression. One of the paramedics used some sort of hand pump to push air into the unconscious boy's lungs, then they gave him another shock. Still nothing. They did another round of compressions.

Julio was crying as he watched helplessly. Upon hearing him, Ricardo grabbed him and pulled him against his chest tightly so that he couldn't see his dying friend. He heard Mrs. Hayfer whispering fervently behind him and made out enough of her words to know that she was praying.

The third shock was just as unsuccessful as its predecessors. It was a race against the clock. If they couldn't revive him soon, he would become completely brain-dead.

As the CPR continued, one of the onlookers whispered to another, "I know that kid. He sucked my dick for ten dollars before. It'd be a shame if he doesn't pull through. He gives great head."

Garrett heard him and gave him a shove and a death glare. "Be respectful," he told him, then he nodded his head towards Drake's two best friends, who were a complete mess as the boy laid there with no heartbeat.

"Come on, kid," one of the paramedics said. "This one's it." He had hope in his voice. He pulled back so that his partner could press a button on the AED, then his eyes moved straight to his chest. "He's breathing," he announced.

An eruption of cheers and sighs of relief came from the crowd. Julio weakly dropped onto his knees and his older brother followed him, still clutching onto him with all of his might.

"Get that oxygen mask on him."

"It's okay," Ricardo soothed as he rubbed circles into Julio's back. "He's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay."

Mrs. Hayfer reached down and squeezed the younger boy's shoulder to offer support as she whispered praises into the sky.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I wanna say thanks to locokat and the guest who reviewed. I agree. Clem sucks. Sorry this chapter took so long. I hit a couple writer's blocks. I'm excited about the upcoming chapters just because I got so tired writing about Clementine. I never even planned for him to move in with her, but it just happened in the moment. Let me know what you think of the chapter and where the story's going and if it even seems to be going anywhere at all. Hope your summer's going better than Drake's did in _Charlie Freak_. CCC ya.**


	10. Bee Well

Julio paced back and forth in the waiting room nervously. It was empty other than Ricardo, Mrs. Hayfer, her husband and himself. He had chewed his thumbnail down to the stump, so instead of ruining another nail, he swiftly sat down in the chair next to his brother.

"Something's wrong. It's been three hours and they haven't told us a goddamn thing."

"He's gonna pull through," Ricardo said. "They're probably just monitoring him to make sure there are no sudden changes."

Julio rested his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair with his head hung guiltily. "I'm so fucking stupid! I shouldn't have left him alone! I'm such an idiot!"

"No, you're not," the man argued. "Drake is a master of deception when he wants to be."

"And I knew that! I should've seen through his lie. So fucking dumb."

Ricardo pulled him into a hug and let him cry.

Alice's heart was broken. She had been through this multiple times before and she knew first-hand how hard something like this was on loved ones. She gave her husband a look letting him know that she was moving, then she sat down on the other side of Julio. Mrs. Hayfer lifted her hand and rubbed the boy's back. "It's not your fault," she said, agreeing with Ricardo.

"What do you know?" Julio said, prompting his older brother to flash her an apologetic look.

"Eight years ago..." She cleared her throat, then glanced at her husband. It was something that they never spoke of, yet here she was, sharing the hardest day of her life with a former student. "Eight years ago, my son Daniel passed away by suicide."

Julio sniffled. "Shit, I'm sorry," came his muffled voice. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know. He'd attempted it twice before. The third time was the one that finally got him. He was twenty-two. He had been sad for a really long time. I spent a lot of that time in denial. I didn't understand, but after the first attempt, I tried to form a closer bond with him. I still never understood him and I think he knew that." She had silent tears running down her cheeks. "After he took his own life, I was devastated. I blamed myself. I obsessed over everything I could've done wrong and almost drove myself insane. It wasn't until later that we found his suicide note on his computer. One thing he wrote was that it wasn't our fault and that he was really sorry for the pain he was causing. He felt like he was the problem."

Julio pulled away from his brother and turned in his seat to look at her as she sniffled and wiped the water from her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," her voice cracked, then she managed to get her composure back. "You're right. I don't know what's going on with Drake and what exactly he felt at the time, but I really don't think you had anything to do with his choice. I don't think he blamed you. I think he blamed himself. I think he blamed himself for a lot. I think he would've done what he did regardless of whether you left him alone for that one minute or not. I think this was something he was going to do all along. He had the pills ready." She placed her hand on top of his when she saw that her words had given him some sort of peace.

At that moment, a doctor whose nametag read Dr. Sarkov approached and caught their attention. "Are you with Drake Parker?"

The group stood and Ricardo nodded his head, then urgently asked, "How is he?"

"He's alive," the man said and this received several sighs of relief. "We had quite a struggle. He went into cardiac arrest two more times since his arrival, but we got him back and we pumped his stomach. There were a lot of drugs in his system and it was a miracle that he survived."

Ricardo pulled his brother closer and offered him a small, encouraging smile.

"Unfortunately, there is some bad news. Mr. Parker is currently in a comatose state and there's no telling how long that will last or if he'll even manage to wake up from it. Although we have him stable right now, his chances of survival are about fifty-fifty and the odds of him making a full recovery are even lower than that, I'm afraid."

"W-what do you mean?" Julio asked.

"When the brain goes without oxygen, cells begin to die within minutes. This means that if he wakes up, there is a high possibility that he might have permanent brain damage."

"Brain damage?" Ricardo said, his worry evident.

"It could range from mild to severe and it may be long-term or even irreversible. It could affect several things: his memory, motor functions, speech, personality. It's possible that he could be in a permanent vegetative state if he wakes up, both physically and mentally."

Again, Ricky pulled his brother closer when Julio's crying started back up.

"However, it's best to remain positive and not lose hope," Dr. Sarkov said. "There's always a possibility that he could pull through and be just like he was before. I was told he was immediately given CPR before the paramedics arrived and that can decrease his chances of lasting brain damage." He was looking at the Hayfer's because he assumed that they were Drake's parents. "You should talk to him. There have been cases where patients wake up from a coma and report having felt love and support."

"Can we see him?" Ricky asked.

"Only family is allowed to visit at this time unfortunately."

"We are his family," Julio argued.

It was obvious that Dr. Sarkov doubted this because Ricardo and Julio were Hispanic, so Garrett spoke up. "I'm Drake's father. These are my sons from a previous marriage."

"Very well. We can only allow two at a time in the ICU."

"You boys go ahead," the man said.

The doctor started down the hall, leading the way to Drake's room.

"Thank you," Ricardo said and he received a nod in return.

"That was very kind of you," Alice said to her husband when they were alone, then he pulled her closer to him and gave her a squeeze.

He had no words. Months ago, Drake had meant absolutely nothing to him. Garrett didn't even look at him like he was a person. He had just been a sex object to him and now he felt bad, but could you blame him? Drake had presented himself as a sex object. When he looked at the boy now, he saw the people who cared deeply for him and he saw his severe mental illnesses. He was a person who had dropped everyone for drugs — who had slept with men two and three times his age to smother the emptiness. He was a person who had felt so low that he had been willing to give up everything — his caring best friends, his future, drugs even — to silence the dark thoughts once and for all. He was a person who was a real human being and now he was on the verge of death. It was like his son all over again. Ricardo and Julio were so young and Garrett hated that they had to suffer through this. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy, much less those kind boys.

"I didn't mean to blow up on him that time," he finally said. "I was just angry, but I was angry at myself and my own stupidity. I just took it out on him. I publicly ridiculed him because I couldn't own up to my own mistake."

Despite the endless number of _I'm sorry_ 's that had spouted from his mouth, Alice noticed that this was the realest her husband has been since she'd caught him with Drake.

"Do you ever just look at your students and think about what their futures will be like? _That one's gonna commit suicide. That one's gonna be a lawyer. That one's gonna run for president. That one's gonna get addicted to drugs and fall into prostitution._ "

"Sometimes, but usually they're all positive things. I focus on their potential."

"What did you think when you saw Drake in your class? What did you think his future would look like?"

Alice thought for a good minute. "I thought he was going to be in for one harsh reality check when high school was over. Turns out he didn't need one. He lived with one every weekend."

 ***FLASHBACK***

"And it's not just his grades, I'm afraid." Mrs. Hayfer was sitting behind her desk. She wasn't smiling, but she was enjoying every minute of this; Drake could tell. "His behavior inside this classroom has been unacceptable."

Although Drake kept his head low and pointed away from his father, he knew the man was glaring at him.

"It's something everyday with him. There are frequent classroom disruptions and he consistently disobeys instructions. He's become such a disruption to my other students that where he's sitting now is his permanent seat for my class."

Drake was sitting in a desk that touched Mrs. Hayfer's desk and was away from where the rest of the students sat during the school day. Martin was next to him in a chair the teacher had pulled up for him.

"Another thing that has been out of control lately is the foul language. If he's not swearing at me, it's at another classmate or at himself when he's struggling with his work and I don't tolerate that in my classroom."

The man's eyebrows lifted with shock, then lowered with anger. "He cusses at you? You cuss at your teacher?" he asked his son before Mrs. Hayfer could respond.

"I've had to send him to the office twice this week already. Drake, would you like to tell your father about the incident that happened today?"

He said nothing.

His father spoke up, scaring him into submission. "She's talking to you, Drake."

"She sent me out of class because I didn't understand the assignment."

"You refused to do it," she said. "You wadded it up into a ball and threw it in the trashcan."

"Because you wouldn't explain it to me," he argued.

"Because I had already explained it, but you chose to text during my class rather than pay attention," was her rebuttal. She then opened one of her desk drawers, pulled out a cell phone, then set it down on her desk. "Here's his phone back, by the way."

Drake reached for it, but Martin got to it first.

"Drake, why don't you tell your father what you called me when I took your phone?"

The young man was still looking away from the adults like he had been, but he could feel his dad turning in his chair, glaring daggers into him as a challenge. "I'll let you tell him," he said with clear attitude and disrespect.

"Jared Drake Parker!" Martin scolded.

He collapsed under the pressure, but he managed to keep his cool vocally. "I called her a fucking cunt."

"You what?!" His eyes were bulging out of his head.

Alice swore she saw the boy flinch. She spoke up. "And that was just today's insult. Tell me, Drake, do you spend your entire school day coming up with these so that you can unload them in my classroom? That would explain your grades."

"Fuck you."

Martin was astonished. "What the hell's the matter with you?!"

She definitely saw him flinch this time.

To Mrs. Hayfer, he said, "I apologize. Audrey and I did not raise him like this."

"I understand. Some students fall out of line. You know what that means, Drake?" she said. "It means you're gonna have a hard road ahead if you don't straighten up."

"That is absolutely right," Mr. Parker said. These words were all the confirmation Drake needed to know that he was in for a beating when they got home.

The student's heart sank. "This is such bullshit."

"Excuse me?! You are grounded, young man. No phone, no car, no computer and no tv for two weeks."

"Whatever."

"Whatever?! Alright, let's make it a month. You wanna try your luck for two months?"

"You can't ground me, Dad, because you're never even around except for on the weekends."

"Well, I'll let your mother know the grounds of your punishment."

"She's not home either. She actually has a job, unlike you."

Martin had been pushed too far and it took everything in him to keep from snapping his neck right then and there. "Okay, well, since your mom's so busy, you'll come and stay with me for the next two months. Okay? How about that?"

For the first time during this parent/teacher meeting, Drake's head shot up and he made eye contact with his father. He was filled with terror and it showed. His voice wasn't so brave anymore. "No..."

He shushed his son with a simple wave of the hand as if he was swatting at a fly. "Is there anything else we need to discuss?" he asked Mrs. Hayfer. After she said there wasn't, Martin said, "Okay, well, I'm about to have a long talk with Drake and I'll fill his mother in on everything we talked about. I appreciate you setting up this meeting for us and, please, call if my son gives you anymore trouble after today, but it won't happen again, will it, Drake?" He clenched his jaw when his son ignored him and repeated, "Will it?"

"No."

"No what?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Now apologize to your teacher."

His voice was quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Look her in the eyes, boy, and speak up," Martin demanded. "Apologize like you mean it."

Drake felt so small when he met her gaze. "I'm sorry for being a bad student."

"There are no bad students — just bad choices," Alice said. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Drake?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. I hope to see you tomorrow with a whole new attitude, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a defeated voice.

Martin stood, then shook Mrs. Hayfer's hand. "Thanks again for inviting us. Come on, Drake."

The boy stood, his head hung. He followed his father out the door. Everything in him was telling him to turn back, run to his teacher and tell her everything that was about to happen to him. She wouldn't care, though. If it were any other student, she would, but she wouldn't care if it was Drake.

"I can not _believe_ you embarrassed me like that!" Martin quietly hissed when they were further down the hall. "I swear to God I'm gonna bust your ass the second we get home. You're fucking dead. You hear me?"

He was so incredibly fucked.

"You're gonna stay with me for the next month. How do you like that?" the man said as he angrily shoved the front door open and stomped toward his truck. "And since you didn't seem too bothered about me taking away your electronics, I'll take away your comfort privileges, too. You'll be staying in the basement and out of my fucking sight."

Drake felt his eyes water over at that. "No..." he begged.

"You're gonna sit there and think about what you've done and how much trouble you're causing your family. _And_ you're on food restriction. The only time you'll be eating is when Megan comes over on the weekends."

"You can't do that!"

"You wanna fucking bet?"

"I'll die."

"God, I hope so. That would be nice."

"That's not fair!"

"Fair?!"

Mrs. Hayfer was looking out her classroom window, where she saw the father and son approach the man's truck. Martin had turned his head towards the boy sharply. Alice couldn't hear him, but it was obvious that he was raging due to the frantic arm waving and pointing. Drake stood there and took it with his head down and his left arm clutching his right bicep. Moments later, Martin gave his son a mighty smack. It was so powerful that it had the boy reeling. That's what Drake needed: a good slap in he mouth, the woman thought. Maybe he was too old for spankings, but he wasn't too old for a hard slap and a belt whooping. He needed his mouth washed out with soap, too. That's what her parents had done to her when she'd cursed in front of them.

Drake clutched his stinging cheek as he nodded along to whatever his father was saying. Another minute passed before Martin motioned towards the truck and commanded him to get in. The young man flinched at the sudden wave of his dad's arm, then he obeyed orders.

 ***END FLASHBACK***

* * *

Dr. Sarkov gestured the two young men inside. "I'll give you boys some time."

Ricardo thanked him, then followed his brother into the hospital room. This was such a familiar thing for them now. They'd visited Drake in the hospital countless times before, but this one was different. This time, he might not make it out and if he did, he might not be the same Drake.

They heard the consistent beeping of the machine first, then they saw him. He was laying motionless. There were wires all around him, which were hooked up to machines that monitored his well-being. He looked like he was asleep, but he wasn't; he was comatose. They couldn't wake him from this.

Ricardo touched his shoulder gently while Julio pulled a chair up next to the bed. "Hey, Drake," the older one said softly. "It's Julio and Ricky."

Julio noticed his brother address himself using the nickname Drake always called him by despite how much he hated it.

"We're here for you," the man said. "It's not time for you to go yet. You hear me? You can't go yet. We need you back at home. The house is so much quieter without you. We need you to pull through this and come back to us." To lighten the mood, which is something Drake usually did and would've done had he been awake and aware, Ricardo said, "Besides, neither of us can cook anywhere near as well as you."

Julio let go of a small chuckle as tears formed in his eyes. He sniffled.

"It hasn't been the same without you," Ricardo continued. "I come in from work and I don't hear _It's Always Sunny_ on the tv and it doesn't feel like home without you there." He brushed Drake's bangs away from his eyes, which remained closed. "We love you and miss you and we need you to make it through this so you can come back home."

He stopped talking after that so that his brother could say something encouraging. However, Julio leaned forwards in his chair and hung his head. Moments later, Ricardo could hear him take a quivering breath in, then a strangled sob left his throat. He put his hand on the boy's back and rubbed it. This went on for a couple minutes before Julio was finally able to speak through his crying.

"I shouldn't have told him about what he did last night," he said with regret in his voice. "I just thought it would be better if he knew what he was about to walk into. I didn't want him to go downstairs and face the consequences without having time to digest them."

"Hey, it's not your fault." Ricardo squatted down so that he was closer to eye level with his younger brother. "What you did was good. Dee and I were fighting all morning and things might've taken a turn for the worse had Drake come down there not knowing what was going on. He probably would've had a panic attack."

"But at least he'd still be alive."

"He still _is_ alive! You have to have hope."

Julio lifted his head and met his older brother's eyes. "Look at him! Does he look alive to you?! He's a fucking vegetable!"

"He's gonna wake up. I know it. You just have to be positive."

"Okay, then what happens if he _does_ wake up and he's completely paralyzed? Someone's gonna have to stay with him all the time. He'll have to be spoon-fed. He'll have to be bathed. Someone will have to change his fucking diapers."

"We're gonna get through this," Ricardo assured. "All three of us. Somos-"

"Somos un familia. Yeah, I know. You've said it a thousand times before."

"Julio...look at me." Ricardo stared into his eyes and when he spoke, his voice was serious. "He's gonna be okay. He will get through this. _We_ will get through this."

Julio opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden movement in his periphery caught his attention. For a moment, his heart jumped with excitement, for he thought that Drake had woken up. Instead, he was still out of it, but his body convulsed uncontrollably. "Shit!"

Ricardo turned back to the hospital patient. He, too, cursed, then ran out of the room and called for a doctor.

"Oh, shit!" Julio stood, but he moved no further. He wanted to help his best friend, but he didn't know how. He wanted to leave, but his feet were glued to the floor. He stared on helplessly as Drake had a seizure. Julio's breathing picked up, but he didn't feel like he was getting any air. His hands shook next to his side.

"They're coming," came Ricardo's voice from behind him.

"What's happening?" the scared boy asked.

A group of doctors and nurses rushed in and surrounded Drake. "We need you to go back to the waiting room," one said.

"What's happening?" Julio said a bit louder than the last time.

"Please, we need you to clear the room."

Amongst the swarm of doctors and nurses, someone said, "He's asphyxiating. Get him on his side."

"What's happening?! Drake!"

"Sir, you _must_ clear the room."

Ricardo wanted to stay, too, but he knew that they would only be a distraction, especially with his brother's many questions. "Come on." He grabbed Julio by the shoulders, then guided him out of the room. "He'll be okay. They're taking care of him." He pulled the shaking young man into a hug and held him while he sobbed. "He'll be okay," he assured, but now he wasn't sure if he believed it.

* * *

It was a while before a doctor had approached the anxious group and let them know that Drake was stable again. They wanted to run a couple tests on him, so he wasn't allowed visitors at the moment. Julio seemed to have calmed down after they were told that Drake was still alive. However, he could tell that his brother wasn't doing so well despite his positive facade. For the last hour, he'd been hunched over in his chair with his nose pointed to the floor and his hands holding up his head. He hadn't spoken a word. It was obvious that he was trying to stay strong for Julio. If he cracked, the young man might lose hope. However, it wasn't fair that he had to hide his own emotions, but even if Julio told him that he had every right to be upset, too, Ricardo still wouldn't show it. For this reason, the young man had done the only thing he'd been able to think of: he'd texted Dee.

When he saw him stepping off the elevator and looking around to determine which direction the waiting room was in, Julio said, "You guys wanna go to the cafeteria and grab food?"

Alice saw that Julio wanted to give his brother some alone time with the guy heading their way, so she stood, her legs stiff. "Yeah, sure. Come on, Garrett."

"Ricardo, we'll be back. I'll bring you something." He didn't get a response, but he didn't expect one. On his way out of the waiting room, he greeted Dee. "Hey, thanks for coming."

"Of course. I'm sorry about Drake."

The second Ricardo heard his voice, his head lifted. At the entrance of the room stood Dee. The man got onto his feet and the second his ex started moving towards him, he broke down. Dee wrapped his arms around him and Ricky clung back as tears left him. They stayed like that for a long time.

* * *

Visiting hours were over at ten, but Ricardo had insisted on staying. He wanted to be close in case there were any sudden changes. Mr. And Mrs. Hayfer left after exchanging numbers with Julio, then Julio and Dee convinced Ricardo to go home and get some sleep.

Dee pushed Ricardo's bedroom door open, then gently closed it behind him, careful not to spill anything off of the tray he was carrying. "I think your brother might already be asleep. I tried knocking on his door," he said quietly, then he made his way over to the bed. "I made some grilled cheeses."

Ricardo didn't make a move to grab the food. Instead, he continued laying where he was with his back turned to the man.

"Come on." Dee rubbed his bicep. "You need to eat something."

Despite the softness of his voice, it wasn't a suggestion and Ricardo knew that, so he sat up. He still said nothing and Dee said nothing and that was okay. Instead, they both picked up one of the four grilled cheeses and took a bite. Ricky's bites were small and it took him longer to make it through his first sandwich because he felt a sickness in his gut. Before he started his next one, he finally broke his silence.

"Thanks for being here."

"Of course," he said. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't know that he would...that he would do something like this."

"This is his third time," Ricardo admitted quietly and his eyes watered over. "He came so much closer this time than the ones before. His heart stopped four times. He wasn't planning on waking up from this one. Maybe he won't."

"Hey, that's not true. He's gonna wake up and he's gonna make a full recovery. I've prayed for him and I had the prayer team at my church pray for him. He's gonna pull through. I know it."

"I just don't understand why he would do this," he cracked out, then he started crying again.

"I know." Dee pulled the man's head onto his shoulder and petted his hair softly as he wept. After a moment, he moved the tray with the one grilled cheese that was left, then he laid down and pulled Ricardo close. He held onto him tightly and kissed the top of his head. "Everything's gonna be okay," he promised. "Just try to fall asleep. I have the alarm set, so we can get up and go back to the hospital the second visiting hours begin. He'll be fine, babe."

* * *

Dee had been right. When they got to the hospital the next morning before the sun, they had received great news. Drake was no longer comatose and was beginning to respond to some things. He was able to follow a flashlight with his eyes, but when the doctor had held his hand and asked him to squeeze it, he failed to do so. Even still, Dr. Sarkov assured the three boys that he was making progress. Only two were allowed to visit Drake at a time, so Dee stayed in the waiting room. When it was time for the nurses' shift change, they had to leave the room for an hour, so the three boys grabbed a late breakfast, then Dee headed home to take a nap before work after promising to check in.

The two Santos brothers were back in Drake's ICU room. Dr. Sarkov had suggested playing something that the patient liked, such as his favorite music or movie, so Ricardo had Hulu up on his phone and was streaming _It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia_ while he and Julio played Go Fish.

"Got any threes?"

Ricardo shook his head, so Julio drew from the deck in between them. The older brother asked for a nine, got one, then set his pair down in front of him. "Got any fours?"

"Nope." Julio pulled out his phone when he heard it ding.

Ricardo drew a jack. He had a jack in his hand, so he set the pair down. "Who's that?"

"Mrs. Hayfer's asking about Drake." Julio set his cards face-down on the table so that he could type faster and more accurately. When he was done, he said, "It's my turn?"

His brother nodded.

"Mmm...got any...jacks?"

"No. Just laid them down." He pointed to his newest pair.

"Damn." He drew, then read the text he got from Mrs. Hayfer. "She said she can come sit with him if we wanna grab a late lunch so Drake doesn't have to be alone."

Ricardo looked at the clock. It was past breakfast and he wasn't incredibly hungry. "I guess I could eat if you wanna get something."

After Julio replied back, he said, "That's really nice of her to offer. Her and Drake always hated each other. She's saved his life, like, what — twice now? Drake's about to hate her so much more when he finally wakes up."

"Well, I'm glad she was there when she was — her _and_ her husband. Without them..." He didn't finish this thought, but his gaze moved towards Drake's closed eyes and Julio knew what he wasn't wanting to say.

"I just can't believe he did this again."

"I know," Ricardo agreed. "You ever do something stupid like this and I'll kill you myself."

Julio was battling his own demons and suicide was something he thought about from time to time. However, he never put those ideas into action and now after seeing Drake like this and knowing that he may never make a full recovery, he never would. The bad thing about killing yourself to escape your problems is not succeeding and then ending up with even worse problems.

"I won't," he vowed. He could never put his brother through this again. He would never wish this kind of pain on anyone.

Ricardo looked back down at his cards. "Got any eights?"

* * *

Ricardo pushed open the door to Drake's room and found Mrs. Hayfer sitting next to the boy's bed and using the food table to grade her students' homework on. She looked up when she heard the door open.

"Anything new?" he asked.

"Nope, no changes."

Ricky noticed her begin to stack her papers and said, "You don't have to be in a rush to leave. Julio's on his laptop in the waiting room catching up on homework."

She nodded. "How's he holding up?"

"Better now that Drake came out of the coma. I think he googled coma statistics and really freaked himself out."

"And you?" Alice asked. "How are you?"

He was quiet for a moment because he had to think about it. How was he? He'd spent so much time worrying about Drake that he hadn't had much time to think about anything else. "As well as I can be, I suppose. You?"

"I don't really know how I feel," she admitted. "I think I just feel a lot of guilt."

Mrs Hayfer thought back to the many times Drake had sat on his leg or knee at his desk because his father had torn him up so viciously with a belt that his skin on his bottom and legs were raw and covered in welts. She recalled the times he had repented after she'd told him about her decision to call Mr. Parker. Once he'd even begged her not to.

 ***FLASHBACK***

"I know it was irresponsible of me and I'm sorry," he said. "Please, _please_ , don't call him."

Her response: "Why? You're scared he'll make you stay in all weekend instead of letting you go out on dates and to parties or whatever it is you waste your time doing when you should be doing the homework I assign?"

"I'll stay after and I'll sit right there and complete it right now," was his offer.

"No, Drake," she said with exhaustion in her voice. "You had three weeks to work on this project. Three weeks. That's plenty of time. This was twenty-five percent of your grade. You realize what that means, don't you? It means the highest grade you can get in my class is a seventy-five, and that's if you had a one hundred before this, which you don't. You're gonna fail this class, Drake."

He didn't give up. "Just give me an hour and I'll do it for half the grade." A fifty was still an F, but it was something.

"You're getting a zero, Drake, and that's final."

Drake sat down in his desk so that he was closer to her level. "You're gonna fail me?"

" _You_ 're gonna fail you."

The young man looked down at his desk and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "My dad's gonna kill me."

For a moment, Mrs. Hayfer thought she caught a glimpse of his eyes and they seemed to glisten with tears. "Why didn't you do your project, Drake?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Was it laziness?"

She was right; he did know. He didn't do his project because he didn't understand it. He sucked at math and he had fallen so far behind in her class that it was impossible to catch up. Every time he turned around, his father was calling him names: stupid, dumbass, idiot, retarded, etcetera; and Martin was right. Drake wholeheartedly believed these things to be true about himself.

However, he repeated himself. "I don't know."

She waited for him to elaborate more, but he didn't, so she opened one of the drawers on her desk, pulled out her purse, then rummaged through until she found her phone. "You can talk to him with me and explain to him that you don't know why you didn't do your project."

Drake's head jerked up at this. "No."

She reached into another drawer and pulled out a list of phone numbers that belonged to the parents of the students who misbehaved most. Martin Parker was at the top of the list.

"Mrs. Hayfer, I know I really fucked — I mean...shit! I mean..." Both of Drake's legs were bouncing up and down...up and down...up and down. "Come on, please, don't call him. Can you call my mom instead? Just this one time, please?"

"When I call your mother, neither your behavior nor you grades improve."

"They will this time, I swear."

"You made your bed, Drake, and now you have to lie in it."

The young man hung his head and closed his eyes when he saw her dialing his father's number. She clicked the button for speaker, then placed the phone on the desk in between them. Drake felt sick to his stomach when he heard that first ring. He prayed that his dad wouldn't answer. He prayed that Mrs. Hayfer would let him off the hook just this once. Prayers never seemed to work for him, though — not when he was up against Martin Parker.

"Hello?"

Drake could immediately hear the loud television in the background. _Fuck! The football game's on._ Interrupting the game would make this ten times worse.

"Mr. Parker?"

"Yes, who is it?"

Drake could tell he was drinking. There was a slight slur in his voice, but he didn't think that it was strong enough for someone who didn't know his voice well to pick up on it.

"This is Alice Hayfer, your son's math teacher at Belleview High School."

Martin cleared his throat then and they could actually hear him sit up straighter on the couch. After a moment, the sounds from the football game ceased. "Hey, what's going on?" His voice was more formal now.

"I have Drake sitting here with me and we wanted to talk to you about his latest issue."

"Issue?" the man repeated. There was anger coming through already.

"Go on, Drake," Mrs. Hayfer prompted.

He knew he'd better speak up. He was already on thin ice after the parent/teacher meeting from two months ago. "Um, hey, Dad," he tried to start casually. This felt strange because he'd never tried to speak casually to him before.

"What did you do, boy?"

"What? N-no. Nothing."

"Exactly," Alice said. " _That_ 's the problem. Tell him what you _didn't_ do."

Drake met her eyes and he expressed a desperation she had never seen in him before. It was just a quick flash of weakness, then he hung his head again. "I didn't complete my math project," he admitted.

Mrs. Hayfer chimed in. "You didn't just not complete it. You neglected to even begin it."

"Are you kidding me, Drake?" Martin said sternly. "Are we really going back to doing this kind of bullshit?"

"Dad, you're on speaker."

The young man hardly finished before his father exploded. "I don't give a shit, Drake! This is the fifth goddamn phone call I've received from your school in two months! I'm fucking sick of it!"

"I'm sorry," he said meekly. He was embarrassed that Mrs. Hayfer was hearing his dad talk to him this way.

"I don't understand why we're even sending you to school if you're gonna cause more trouble than you're worth! Huh?!"

Drake wasn't sure what the question was, so he just quietly muttered, "I don't know."

"You don't know?! What? Speak up! You have no problem talking during your science class, but when you have to speak to me, you go silent!"

Drake swallowed with fear, but his throat was dry, which made him cough.

"Are you listening to me?!"

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Parker, if I may break in here," Mrs. Hayfer said, "before we get too far into one topic, I'm afraid Drake has more bad news." She motioned for the boy to speak.

Drake wished that he were dead. He prayed for a giant piano to fall on top of him and crush him. Anything would be better than facing his father's wrath. "She said she was gonna flunk me."

" _What_?! I thought we _just_ had a lengthy discussion concerning your grades, Drake!" 'Discussion' meant 'beating' in this case.

"I know and I was trying-"

"It doesn't sound like you were trying!"

Alice spoke again. "He had three weeks to do this project and it was twenty-five percent of his grade. Every single one of my students completed and passed with at least a C — everyone except for Drake."

There was a sigh on the other end, then silence. That's not something Drake ever heard from his father before. This was going to be really bad. "Is there any way he could turn it in late for a lower grade?"

"I'm sorry. That's not possible."

"What's his current grade in your class?"

"After adding in this zero, it's gone down to a twenty-two."

"Goddamnit, Drake." There was another brief pause. "And there's nothing he can do to make up for it? No extra credit or anything?"

"No, it wouldn't be fair to my other students who did take the time to work hard on their projects."

"Drake, your mother is gonna be _so_ disappointed in you. Do you hear me?"

"I know," he said and he even sounded disappointed in himself.

"What do you think your punishment should be? Hmm?" When he didn't receive a response, he exploded, making his son flinch. "I'm talking to you!"

"I don't know," the young man said defensively.

"Well, let me tell you. You're grounded. Four months. All the way until the end of summer. No phone, no tv, no car, no friends, no electronics, no guitar, no leaving the house, no anything. When you get home today, I'll have a belt waiting for you."

Drake lost it at this. A quiet sob left his lips, so he hung his head and attempted to get himself under control. However, he continued to weep.

"Does that sound good?" Martin said.

"No," the helpless boy whined.

"No?! You want more?!"

"No!" he pleaded.

"I'm gonna talk to Walter today about you staying with me this summer instead of going with them on vacation to your aunt's lake house. This way, I can watch you and I'll know for certain that you'll be doing nothing but sitting around regretting how childish you've acted this school year. You've really showed your ass and you've been an embarrassment to your mother and I. Now you have to face the consequences of your actions. Does that sound fair?"

He knew that he would get yelled at some more if he disagreed. His voice cracked when he spoke. "Yes, sir."

"Good. You come straight home after school. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now Mrs Hayfer, is there any way that Drake can graduate with the rest of his class this year or will he have to stay behind and repeat the twelfth grade?"

"Actually, there is a test he can take. We don't offer summer school, but I can set him up with a tutor, which will work out perfectly if he is staying with you over the summer break. Towards the end of July, he can take an exam and if he scores high enough, he can graduate."

"Do we have to pay for this tutor?"

"No, it's a program where students who are interested and who have the grades can sign up to earn college credits — the kind of students who always go above and beyond in everything they do."

"See, Drake, why couldn't you be like those kids?"

When the young man realized that he was actually waiting for an answer, he pitifully said, "I don't know."

Drake was still weeping when Mrs. Hayfer got off the phone with his father. He kept his head down with shame and covered his face with his arms. He was humiliated that he was crying in front of his arch nemesis and the fact that he couldn't stop made it even more embarrassing. He wasn't incredibly audible. His tears were silent other than the frequent sniffles he had to do so that snot wouldn't fall onto his desk. Two minutes went by like this, with Hayfer leaving him in peace, before the door to the classroom opened suddenly.

"Oh, oops, am I interrupting something?" Her name was Marybeth. She was this extremely attractive girl who Drake had hit on despite the fact that she had a boyfriend.

"Shit," Mrs. Hayfer heard Drake whisper under his breath as he wiped his damp eyes.

"We were just finishing up," she said when she saw the young man grab his backpack and stand. "Come on in, Marybeth."

She approached the desk and in order to spare Drake's dignity, she said nothing about seeing him cry. Mrs. Hayfer stopped him before he could leave.

"Drake, I hope you've learned a valuable lesson today."

Too scared not to be polite, he replied with a meek, "Yes, ma'am," before leaving her classroom.

 ***END FLASHBACK***

Alice couldn't even begin to imagine the hell he had gone through when he got home that day. Drake wasn't the first student to cry when she called home, but it was extremely rare. Most kids liked to pretend they couldn't care less. Drake was usually one of those kids, but that day had been different. She wasn't sure if the boy had stayed with Martin for the entire four months, but she doubted that Mrs. Parker would part with her son for that long, especially since she definitely wouldn't be able to see him when she was gone on vacation. Even still, any time he spent with that man was undeserved. His beating must've been brutal because the phone call took place on Friday afternoon and Drake didn't return to school until Thursday. How could she have been so blind? She had just assumed that he'd gotten sick over the weekend. When he walked into her classroom Thursday, he wouldn't even look at her. He kept his head down, he kept quiet and he did his work for the first time in a long time. This is the way he behaved during the entire two months he had left until summer. He didn't speak to anyone, he didn't cause disruptions and he always turned in his work on time. He would come into her classroom looking rather depressed, but that was to be expected when his father had taken away everything that had given him joy. Little did she know that, around this time, Drake had been forced to give his gym coach fellacio and he and Meelah had split up soon after. Alice had had no idea and she never would fully know what he'd been going through at the time.

The last time she saw him was on the final day of school. He had started coming in looking like a hot mess: dark eyes, sunken cheeks, a permanent frown. It had somehow slipped past her, but thinking back on it, he was probably constantly drugged up at this point. She could tell by looking at him that he dreaded spending his summer with his dad. She hated this kid so much that, _some_ how, all of the obvious signs — she just missed them. It was _right_ in front of her and she hadn't seen it. That was the last time she had seen him until many years later, she'd walked in on him masturbating for her husband for a few dollars.

Finally, she spoke quietly. "I could've prevented so much." Her voice cracked and her eyes became blurry with tears.

She thought about all of the sexual abuse he had endured from his father. It had become such a normalcy for him that finally, when he had the chance to get away from all of that, he physically inserted himself in a place where people viewed sex as a form of payment. He had learned that that's all anyone wanted from him — that that's all he was good for. Alice should've been the teacher who taught him otherwise. Instead, she had been impatient with him and she had made him feel ashamed when he didn't understand something. No wonder he relied so heavily on his body to get by. Everyone had basically told him that his brain wasn't worth shit.

"I knew his dad was hitting him," Ricardo admitted softly. He wanted Mrs. Hayfer to know that she wasn't the only one who had failed the boy. "Drake asked me not to say anything, so I didn't, then one day, I got this phone call at four o'clock in the morning. He didn't say anything. He was crying and I just knew. I rushed over there and found him locked in the basement. He had been beaten so badly that a few of his bones were broken. I took him to the hospital and again, he begged me not to say anything. And I didn't. A little over six months later, his dad almost killed him." His voice was somber as he recalled this dark time in their lives. "I met him at the hospital and he was in so much pain. I stayed with him the whole time and watched him suffer through it. When the police came in to ask him questions, I learned about the sexual abuse. I'd never felt so sick before in my life."

Mrs. Hayfer was saddened by his story. She reached forward and gently gripped Drake's hand in hers and when she did this, he turned his head away from her.

"S'cold," he whined, his eyes still closed.

Alice and Ricardo's head jerked towards him.

The woman stood and placed her free palm on his cheek. "Drake? Hey, Drake?"

"I'm gonna find a doctor." Ricardo hurried out of the room.

"Drake, can you hear me?"

"M'so cold," he mumbled again. "It hurts."

"What hurts? Hey, what hurts?"

"It hurts!" He yelled it this time.

"Tell me where it hurts, honey."

"Mom — Fuck! Fuck! Please make it stop!"

"It's gonna be okay," Alice soothed, petting his hair.

However, Drake continued to scream obscenities. It wasn't much longer before Ricardo ran back into the room with some of the staff in tow. Mrs. Hayfer joined Ricky so that they were out of the way while Dr. Sarkov shined a light in his patient's eyes and asked him to follow it. He then asked him a few questions like what Drake's name was and where he felt pain. Instead of responding to any of this, the young man continued screaming, so the doctor motioned his okay to a nearby nurse, who injected something into the boy's IV. Within seconds, Drake stopped yelling and he seemed to be asleep.

"What did you give him?" Ricardo asked.

"Something for the pain. Don't worry. I know it looks scary, but this is good. He's becoming more and more aware and he spoke and even moved a bit this time. He is making progress."

Ricky nodded his understanding. "Was that morphine?" When the doctor confirmed this, he said, "Could you not give him that again? He has a drug problem and he's requested before to only be given something with a low addiction risk and to only be given it when completely necessary. It should be in his files."

"Sure, I'll take a look."

"Thank you."

"And could we get him some more blankets?" Mrs. Hayfer chimed in. "He complained about the cold."

"Of course."

The room cleared out until the only people left were Ricardo, Alice and Drake. The teacher went back to her original spot and looked at his vitals on the screen next to the bed.

"What were you doing when he woke up?" the man asked.

"I just held his hand," she said. "I think he thought I was his mother. He called for her." She gently brushed his bangs out of his face. "The last time I saw him, he said they weren't on speaking terms. Is this still true?"

"Yes, ma'am. He ran into his ex girlfriend's parents and they wrote her new address down for him, but he refused to look at it."

"Do you think he'll ever go?"

"I think he will, but I think he's waiting for the time to be right. He wants to make progress, I'm sure, rather than show up more messed up than he was when he left her."

"I don't think she'd mind. I'm sure she just misses him," she said. She would give anything to see her son again. She didn't care what state he was in as long as he was alive.

"I've tried to tell him, but he says he's not ready," Ricardo said. "It's more than facing his mom again. Drake has a three-year-old daughter who he's never even seen."

"What?" Her voice was full of surprise.

"He left her and her mom behind and last he knew, they lived with Mrs. Nichols. You may know her. Her name's Mindy."

"No, I don't think I know her," she said. "Maybe if I saw her face, I'd recognize her."

"I don't remember her last name, but I think you set it up where she tutored him that one summer."

Mrs. Hayfer turned her gaze to him. "You mean Mindy _Crenshaw_?!"

"That's her name," Ricardo remembered.

"That doesn't make any sense. They hated each other. She was dating Drake's step-brother. _She_ had a baby?"

"Yes, ma'am. I was only able to see her once, but she was beautiful."

"I wonder if that's why she never comes back to visit me. Usually, there are one or two students every year who stop in for a visit. I always thought she would be one of them."

Mrs. Hayfer was hearing everything that Ricardo said, but she found it all so hard to believe. Never in a million years could she see Mindy and Drake together. Or maybe it wasn't all that unbelievable. Maybe Mindy, like Mrs. Hayfer, had never really given Drake a chance. Alice had seen a side of her former student that he had never shown back in her class. Maybe when Mindy had spent the time tutoring him, she'd seen it too. He wasn't the person Alice had always thought he was. He had so much more to offer, but he kept that hidden behind these invisible walls that his father had built for him. It's like he had spent his entire life trapped and he never realized that he could walk right through those walls because they weren't actually real.

Alice had many questions and Ricardo seemed willing to answer them for her because without her, Drake would've been dead. Like Julio had stated before, she's saved his life twice now. She was involved and she deserved to know.

"What happened between Drake and his mother?"

"She found him laying in the middle of the road one night. He was high as a kite, so she got him to her car. I don't know what happened exactly. Drake doesn't fully remember. He tried to get out, but she wouldn't let him, so he grabbed the steering wheel and they wrecked. Mrs. Nichols was in a coma for a few days and when she woke up, she couldn't feel her legs. She was bound to a wheelchair when she got to go home. Drake got released from the hospital before she awoke from the coma and he was right back in the same day. That's when Mr. Parker attempted to end his life. He was welcomed back home with open arms, but Drake had been involved with these really bad people for a while. He owed them a lot of money, which he didn't have. These guys — they broke in and held his family at gunpoint while they beat him. They were going to kill them all, but Walter — he had been unconscious on the floor, but he woke up and took them to the bank and paid them off, then he made Drake promise never to return and he's kept that promise."

"Jesus..." Alice whispered as she looked at the sleeping young man. "So he came to you?"

"Not exactly. He stayed with this horrible guy who kept him drugged up so that he could fulfill his sick fantasies he had about being in a relationship with Drake. Drake let him do it because he had a steady supply of drugs there. After I found out he had been kicked out of his mom's house, I looked everywhere for him. When I found him, he was so far gone that I didn't think I would ever be able to bring him back. It was a struggle, but he cleaned up and he's stayed with me and my brother ever since. Well, until he moved in with Dahlia."

"Dahlia?"

"His on-again/off-again girlfriend. She's a manipulative sociopath. She treated him horribly and he let her because he was head-over-heels in love with her. She put him down, called him names, hit him, and he never stood up for himself. I've been trying to convince him for years to get professional help with everything he's had to deal with and he finally agreed after his two-month relapse, when you brought him home. He and Dahlia made up and he spent the night with her the night before his appointment. He called the next morning and said he wasn't going. We got into this huge fight and he ignored my message when I tried to apologize. One week later, I got on Facebook and found out that he had proposed to her. I don't know what happened. Dee said Drake told him she had been cheating on him the entire time they were in a relationship. I tried to tell him a long time ago, but he never listened and I never had proof. I wish I would've tried harder before things got to this point."

"So he did this because she broke his heart?"

"I don't know," the man said. "There was a lot going on. I was mad at him about something he did when he was drunk. He didn't remember it the next morning, but when my brother clued him in, he ran off before I got the chance to talk to him. A couple hours later, we ended up here."

Mrs. Hayfer approached the question with caution. "What did he do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He tried to sleep with Dee," the man said. "Dee and I spent that entire morning arguing. When Drake woke up, Julio told him what he'd done. I was so angry. I was gonna yell at him. Drake knew that, so that's why he ran."

"You had every right to be mad," the woman said when she heard the guilt in Ricardo's voice.

The fact that he even felt guilty in the first place completely puzzled her. She was learning a lot about Drake today. Not only had he seduced her own husband, but he also slept with his step-brother's girlfriend and he'd tried to have sex with his best friend's boyfriend. She didn't understand how someone so broken up about his fiancée's infidelity could go on to ruin other relationships the same way someone had done to his.

"I think I know why he did it, though, so...I don't think it was really something..." He was unsure how to word this without making it sound like Drake was manipulating him like Clementine had done to Drake. "It's part of why I really wanted him to get professional help. He's...just so confused about some things. He thinks men only give him attention because they wanna sleep with him and for the most part, I guess that's been kinda true. He felt like he owed Dee something in return for his kindness. When Dee pushed him away, Drake lost it. He saw it as a failure on _his_ part — like he..." This probably wasn't making any sense, so he tried to offer up a bit of backstory. "It turned out that the person he thought cared about him the most — that being Dahlia — never actually loved him and he never meant anything to his dad, the person who should've cared about him more than anything. I think having Dee say no to him was like having another person tell him he's worthless and the fact that Dee said no when the sex was supposed to be a form of payment, like something he had to do, a legality — I think that made Drake feel even more, like...useless, in a way." He didn't know why he had gone into so much detail and he probably shouldn't have, but he didn't want Mrs. Hayfer to think of Drake as a guy who would normally go around sleeping with his best friends' significant others. "I know it sounds crazy, but I know Drake. He never would've purposely hurt me like that."

What Ricardo said made sense, but at the same time, Alice wasn't so sure that she believed his last sentence. This was because of her own experience, though. Although she was here and she wanted to see Drake pull through just as much as anyone else, there was still bitterness in her heart because of what he'd done with her husband. Maybe she was wrong; maybe she wasn't, but if Ricardo was correct, then she hoped Drake got the help he needed before he ruined someone else's relationship and life.

"He's not a bad person," Ricky said. "He just makes a lot of wrong choices and he has to learn to live with them."

* * *

The pain shooting through Drake's rib cage is what woke him. When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but a bright white color. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the light everyone always talked about. Any minute now, he would see Meelah. However, he waited and waited and she never came for him. Maybe he wasn't completely dead yet. Maybe he was caught in that place in between. That would explain why his ribs hurt so goddamn much. Maybe he should stop using God's name in vein now that he was here. There's probably a strict rule against that or something.

Despite the horrible pain jolting through his abdomen, he felt at peace. Finally, he could-

 _Beep._

Drake's head tilted ever so slightly towards the sound.

 _Beep._

There is was again. In an instant, he knew. He knew where he was.

"No..." It came out as a whisper, but the next time, he was louder. "No. No, no...no!" He touched the top of his left hand and felt the IV. "No!" He ripped off the tape and pulled the needle out of his skin, then he pushed himself into a sitting position. The pain in his chest was so excruciating that he let go of a scream. He felt wires attached to his torso, so he snatched them away and the circle-shaped stickers tore off of his skin. His vision was blurry and he still couldn't see anything but white. On top of that, he heard more frantic beeping, like alarms going off. All of this disoriented him. He pushed his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, but immediately fell, his knees colliding against the cold, hard floor. He clutched his chest and let go of a sob as he pushed himself up. He was so weak that he had to remain hunched over and use his free hand for support. He took his first step, then another, then another. "GAAAHHH!" he screeched when the catheter caught him. He was on the ground again. He doubled over as tears found there way to his eyes.

"Get him up," someone said, then Drake felt himself being grabbed.

"No! No!"

Two men lifted the boy back onto the hospital bed, but he continued to fight them.

"You're gonna have to restrain him."

Suddenly, his leg was grabbed and he was no longer able to kick with that one. "NO! NO! NO!" While he was focused on keeping his other leg free, his right arm was taken. "NO! NOO!" He was sobbing now.

They had him strapped down pretty quickly and he was unable to move.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GOOO! I JUST WANNA DIE!" He could feel someone's hands turning his head forwards and firmly holding it there before he was blasted by a bright light. He was terrified and not being able to move was giving him flashbacks. "DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! FUCKER!"

A new voice could be heard now. "What the fuck are you doing?!" There were loud stomps, then, "Get the fuck away from him!" The voice was much softer now. "Hey, hey, it's okay. It's me. It's Julio."

Drake could feel the restraints loosening enough for him to pull his hands free.

"Listen to me. Just calm down okay? I won't let them do that to you again. Just breathe, okay? Just breathe."

When the patient sat up so that he felt less trapped, Julio wrapped his arms around him. Drake clung to him tightly, his hands trembling wildly as he bawled into his friend's shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay," Julio soothed. "Everything's gonna be okay."

"I wanted to die," he whined.

"I know."

"Just let me die."

"Please stay calm so they let me stay in here with you."

Drake was scared of what they would do to him if he was alone, so he stopped screaming and just cried into Julio's shirt.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Drake quietly said to the nurse as she put his IV back in. He wasn't sure who he had done it to, but he definitely punched someone pretty hard in his struggle.

"It's okay." She offered him a warm smile. "We're glad to have you back." She then nodded at Julio to let him know he could move back to his former spot. "The doctor will be in shortly to ask you some questions." After that, she was gone.

Julio took a seat on the bed carefully so that he didn't disturb his broken ribs. He was quiet for a moment as he stared at the floor, then he looked up at him and hesitantly asked, "What happened, bro?"

"You weren't supposed to find me," Drake said. "How did you find me?"

"Mrs. Hayfer's husband found you. They're the ones who saved your life."

"Why can't everyone just let me go?" He said it almost as if he were speaking only to himself, but Julio gave him an answer anyway.

"Because it's not your time yet."

Suddenly, the door burst open and Ricardo came in panting and sweating. "Sorry, I just saw your text. I was walking Mrs. Hayfer to her car."

Drake turned his head away from him.

"How are you feeling?"

The young man jerked away when Ricky rubbed his bicep. He left his question unanswered. Ricardo looked up at Julio with confusion and his brother seemed to be just as clueless.

"Are you in a lot of pain?"

Still nothing.

"Drake?"

"Just fuck off, okay?"

Again, the two Santos brothers shared a look of bewilderment and puzzlement.

"Are you okay?"

His voice was hard and emotionless. "Do I look like I'm okay?"

 _He's right. That's a dumb question._ "Can I get you anything? Do you need me to do anything? I can fix your pillows if you're not comfortable."

"Can you leave?"

Ricardo took a sharp breath in and furrowed his brows. His voice was soft. "What?"

However, Drake didn't repeat himself.

"I don't understand."

"You know what you did."

Julio looked at his brother questioningly, but Ricardo was clueless.

"What do you mean, Drake?" When he didn't get a reply, he said, "Did I do something to make you upset?"

"Just go," the boy said.

"I don't un-"

"Leave!"

Drake had tears in his eyes, which matched Ricardo's. The man was hurt. He had no idea why he was being shunned like this, but he didn't want his friend to get worked up when he should be resting, so he gave the boy the space he demanded. He didn't say anything as he walked out the door, but the second he was out of the room, his tears fell down his cheeks. He felt lost. He had no idea what he could've possibly done to deserve this. Instead of going back to the waiting room, he made his way to a nearby restroom and locked himself in so that he could get a grip on himself in private.

* * *

"How is he?" Ricardo asked eagerly when his brother came into the waiting room.

"He's fine. They're doing shift change, so they kicked me out for an hour." Julio plopped down next to him. "Bruh, what the hell did you do to Drake?"

"I didn't do anything!" he said defensively.

"I've never seen him act like that before. Not to you."

"Me neither."

"They said he might have brain damage when he woke up. Do you think it's because of that? Maybe he thinks you're someone else or he thinks you did something?"

"Is that a thing?"

"I don't know, but something's wrong. Even when he gets mad at you, he would never have the guts to talk to you like that."

"Well, he did during our big fight," Ricardo said. "Maybe that's it. Maybe I said something then that really hurt his feelings."

"I said a lot of shit, too, though. We all did."

"Maybe I said the wrong thing."

"I don't think that's it."

"It has to be. That's the last time I've talked to him until just then when he kicked me out of his room." The man leaned forwards in his chair and rested his head on his hands. "I said so much shit that I don't really even remember it. I was just so angry at the time."

Julio put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up about it now. Let's grab lunch and when we get back, I'll talk to him."

Ricardo sighed, but he sat up. "Alright."

* * *

Drake was asleep by the time Julio was allowed to go back into his room, so the young man sat in the single chair, rotating back and forth between scrolling through Facebook and flipping through the same twenty channels on the television. It was exhausting being here again. They were just here two months ago when Drake had been assaulted by some guy he owed forty dollars to and somewhere in between then and now, Ricardo had told him about another hospital bill he had received while staying with Dahlia. Drake had to have the worst credit out of everyone Julio knew. At the young age of twenty-one, the boy probably owed tens of thousands of dollars in hospital bills alone...if not hundreds of thousands. This was like Drake's home away from home, yet, for Julio, sitting in this chair never got any easier.

Suddenly, he heard a gurgling noise coming from the patient, then Drake's eyes shot open. Julio immediately knew what was about to happen when his friend started gagging. He quickly searched around for something within reach that resembled a trash can. The closest thing he could find was the bed pan on one of the shelves in his roll-around table. He held it underneath Drake's head just in time to catch a waterfall of vomit, which spewed violently from his mouth. The young man coughed afterwards. He got a few deep breaths in, then he was at it again.

After the second round, Julio asked, "Was that it?"

Drake only shook his head as he spat into the almost-overflowing pan.

"Hold this." When the young man took it, Julio hurried over to the door and grabbed the small garbage can. He brought it back to Drake and took the bed pan over to the sink.

"I'm so sick," Drake whined before more slid up his throat.

"Maybe it's the morphine."

He panted for breath before saying, "What?"

"You woke up earlier yelling about pain." He saw his friend's worried look and said, "My brother told them not to give you anymore."

Julio grabbed a paper towel and wet it, then he tore off a few more and left them dry. Drake wiped away the snot, then cleaned off his mouth. About the time he was finished with that, his friend passed him a new gown to change into. He removed the one that had puke trailing down the front, then he cleaned off his chest. As he did this, he noticed the bruises right between his breasts.

"Damn," he whispered to himself, then he slipped on the clean hospital gown with Julio's help. "Sorry," he said guiltily as he watched his friend clean the sink.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"My mouth tastes bad."

"We brought your toothbrush and shit. You wanna brush your teeth?"

When Drake nodded, he opened the closet and searched through a small bag of the boy's belongings. He passed him his toothbrush and toothpaste, then poured some water in a cup so that he could gargle and spit afterwards. After that was finished, Drake rested his head against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"You alright?"

"Hurts to breathe," he whispered, then to himself, he mumbled, "I just got over this shit."

"Yeah, I heard about that."

Drake eyed him now. "Who told you?"

"No one," he said. "We got your hospital bill in the mail."

"Shit, you weren't supposed to see that." The boy closed his eyes again and sighed, then winced.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Really?" Julio was hurt. "You're not gonna tell me?"

"It was an accident. I took too many muscle relaxers."

"Muscle relaxers?"

"I was having a panic attack. Clem gave me these pills. I didn't look at them; I just took them. I don't know what happened. Brett said Sam drove me to the hospital and I stopped breathing, so he had to do CPR."

"Bruh, Dahlia almost killed you."

"It was an accident, alright?"

"Are you sure about that? She's gonna be a doctor. Shouldn't she know that shit?"

"She wouldn't have done that," Drake said. "She has too much to lose."

"I don't know, bruh. Dahlia's fucking crazy."

"The fuck do you know?" he snapped. He was getting angry and Julio noticed this.

"Are you really sticking up for her right now? After everything?" Julio, too, was pissed. "My brother has been by your side through everything and you made him leave this room in tears earlier. The cheating, the lies, the abuse, the manipulation — you're willing to look past all that for Dahlia, but not forgive Ricardo, who has no idea what he even did to make you hate him so much?"

"He knows what he did and he can go fuck himself," he mumbled.

Julio was fuming now. "Hey! I get that you're stuck in the hospital and your plans fell through and you're not having a good time, but that doesn't give you the right to treat my brother like shit. He has been worried sick about you and you just kicked him out like that? That was fucking rude."

"The only reason he's been so worried is because if I had succeeded, then he would've felt like it was his fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"Who do you think told me to kill myself?"

"What, you're trying to tell me Ricardo told you to do this?"

"Several times."

"That's bullshit. He would never-"

"Apparently, he would," Drake interrupted. "He'll get what he wants soon enough. I know we both know that this isn't the last time."

Julio was taken aback by his words.

"Just because I failed, it doesn't mean I don't still feel the same way. This is all bullshit. We're sitting here watching tv, listening to music and...and playing fucking cards, but when I get out of here, I'm gone. I'm gonna finish what I started."

"What the fuck, Drake?" was all Julio could even say. Hearing his best friend's harsh, phlegmatic voice brought tears to his eyes. "I don't understand. Don't you give a shit about anyone — about me?"

"I've tried things your way for far too long and not a damn thing has changed. I'm so fucking sick of feeling this way. All I do is destroy. I've destroyed everything and everyone around me except myself, but I am done failing at that."

Usually, when Drake spoke, Julio could tell who was really speaking. Most of the time, it was Drake, but sometimes it was Martin or Charlie or Dahlia. He had no idea which this was.

"Who told you that?" Julio asked.

Drake held his pained stare and spoke with a hard voice. "Your brother."

* * *

"Bruh, what the fuck?"

Ricardo had been resting his tired eyes as he was hunched over in his seat, but when Julio entered the waiting room, he sat up and furrowed his brow and immediately noticed how angry he was. "What?"

"Did you write this?"

He took the phone that his brother held out to him and read the vicious words on the screen, then he saw his name at the top. "What the fuck?" he whispered. "I didn't send that." He dragged the screen down and saw another hateful message above this one. After reading it, he moved on to the next, then kept scrolling when he saw that it wasn't the last. "What the fuck? I didn't send all these." He looked at his brother. "You know I didn't send these."

Julio believed him.

"I don't understand." Ricardo pulled out his own phone and opened his messages that he had sent Drake. "This is the last thing I sent to him. I tried to smooth things over with him when I saw the hospital bill, but he ignored it." He checked the date that he sent his apology, then scrolled through the messages on Drake's phone. He made it all the way to the top, but there were no matching texts. "He deleted it."

"This first message was sent the same day you sent that message," Julio noticed. "Bruh, you don't think..."

"What?"

"I mean, I didn't do it. The only other person who had access to your phone this many times was..."

"Dee wouldn't do this."

"You _were_ always talking and thinking about Drake all the time. Maybe he got jealous. I mean, you two have only been dating for, like, a month or two, so how much could you really know about him?"

"He wouldn't do this," Ricardo argued. "You've met him. He's not like that. You know he's not like that."

"I don't know anything anymore," Julio said. "I mean, it would be so simple to get on your phone, send Drake a message, then delete it so that you would never know he did it. Who else could it be? Someone from work? I promise it wasn't me."

"I know it wasn't you. Hold on. Lemme...lemme try something." Ricardo started typing on Drake's phone: a simple _hey_ , then he sent it. He waited for a moment, but he never received the message on his phone.

"Is your WiFi working?"

"It's working."

"Send it from you."

Ricardo typed Drake's name into the box, then sent it to the boy. Immediately, he received a notice in a blue box at the bottom of the screen. " _You can't reply to this conversation._ What the fuck?"

"That means he blocked you."

Ricardo went back to the home page on his account and used the search bar to find Drake's page. It wasn't there, which confirmed Julio's statement.

"Wait, but if he blocked you," Julio said, "then he shouldn't be able to send you a message, but he did and he didn't get the same notification that you did."

"I'm so confused."

"This isn't your profile." Julio took Drake's phone from him. "Otherwise, it would've said _'You can't reply to this conversation'_ when you sent yourself a message from him. It works both ways when you block someone. Neither of you can message the other."

"So...this is someone else's page...?" He was slowly beginning to catch up.

"Right, but when I click on it, I can't see it because it's set to private. He's not friends with this profile."

"Okay..."

"Hold on." Julio pulled out his own cell phone and opened the Facebook app. In the search bar, he typed _'Ricardo Santos.'_ "Look, there are two profiles with your name, and both using that same profile picture, but this one I'm friends with. See? This is you. Here're those pictures you posted from the cabin. But when I click on that other Ricardo — I'm not friends with that one and I can't see any of your posts."

"What does this mean?"

"It means that someone created an entire Facebook page pretending to be you and they sent those messages to Drake from it so that he would think they were from you."

"Who would do that?"

* * *

"Yeah?" Clementine called over the loud sound of the running water in the shower.

Sam cracked open the door. "I was talking to Brett and my phone just died. Do you mind if I use your phone really quick?"

"Go ahead."

Samantha picked it up off the counter. "It's asking for your password, hun." She passed it to the girl when she reached her arm around the shower curtain. When she got it back, she said, "Thanks. I'll just be a second." She closed the door behind her, then went back to her bedroom. "Okay, I got it," she said into her own, sufficiently-charged cell phone.

"Okay, open Facebook," Julio said, "then go over to the menu and log out. After you do that, it should show you what accounts usually log in on that phone."

"Hold on." There was a short pause, then, "Yep, it's showing hers, Drake's and then Ricardo's."

"Son of a bitch!" she heard the older brother exclaim in the background.

"Okay, can you get in?" Julio asked.

"Yeah, I'm in. She's got a message. It's from Drake. It just says _hey_ ," she said, confirming that this was the "Ricardo" who had been messaging Drake.

"That fucking bitch!" came Ricky's infuriated voice in the background again.

"Oh my God..."

"What?" Julio asked.

Sam had read the latest message Dahlia had sent to her ex. "I can't believe she said that. Oh my God. I feel so bad. How could she say that?" She continued scrolling. "I'm so sorry. When he talked about getting texts from you, Ricardo, I really thought it was you. This has been going on for a while. He was such a mess about it. He stayed in bed all the time and just cried."

Ricardo stood and clutched his balled-up jacket in his fists. He started pacing to work off his anger before he did something that would put him in jail. He sharply mumbled a lot of words in Spanish.

"Oh my God, I can't believe she said all this," the girl said again. "He never read them to me. I didn't know they were this bad." After a moment, she said, "This one..."

"Which one?"

"The one on April sixth, his ex's birthday."

"Meelah?"

"Yeah." There was a pause as she reread the message. "He stayed in bed and cried that whole day. Dahlia said it was because he had a nightmare, but I didn't know he got another text, and then Brett found out that it was Meelah's birthday. They had — I don't really know if I should be telling you this, but I know you guys only wanna help him."

"What is it?"

Ricardo came closer and stopped walking now.

"Dahlia — she always brags about their sex life. She was telling me about this time he let her do a rape role-play, with him being the victim. I didn't know how she'd managed to convince him, but after reading this text... She's just making him feel inadequate. He probably felt like — I don't know — like he had something to prove to himself."

As she spoke, Julio went back and found the text Sam was referring to, then he and his brother read it.

"She told me he used the safe word, but then she put something in his mouth so he couldn't say it again and she kept going."

Ricardo slung his jacket so hard that when the zipper hit the metal arm on one of the many chairs, it made a loud noise. He was cursing up a storm when he turned and stomped out of the waiting room.

"Bro," Julio called after him, but he was already gone.

"I confronted her about it and she blew up. She made a whole scene and put Drake on the spot. He stood up for her and said it was just part of the role-play, but I think he was just too scared to call her out. He'd changed after it had happened, which is why I'd even asked how things were going in the first place. He hardly ever kissed her. He wasn't upset when she stayed gone with her friends all day and left him at home. He didn't tell her he loved her when she left the house." Sam said, "I think it happened multiple times. She tried to say it wasn't rape because, you know...he ejaculated. I don't know if it'd do any good for you to bring all of that up now, but I just thought you should know."

"This is all so fucking insane. I mean, I always thought she was crazy, but...she's straight-up psycho. My brother was right. She's a sociopath."

"That's not even the half of it. It was like he was in prison when he lived here. She wouldn't let him leave the house _ever_. She picked out his clothes, told him what to eat, picked what he watched. She'd leave in the morning for 'study group,' which we found out was never actually a thing, and she would stay gone all day — sometimes wouldn't even come back until the next morning. Even when she was gone, he wasn't allowed to leave the house and he was too scared to go against her wishes because sometimes, she would text him and make him send some ridiculous picture of himself doing something or holding a certain object to prove that he was at home. I remember walking in on him one day taking a selfie of himself holding an iron, which we've never used. It's been in the back of the hall closet since we got it. Even after he sent the picture, Dahlia told him she didn't believe him because he could've taken that picture before, so she made him FaceTime her and I had to tell her he was at home. He was so embarrassed."

"I knew she was controlling, but goddamn."

"And I don't know if you saw it the other night, but she started posting dirty pictures of herself on his Facebook page to make it look like he was doing it to be an asshole. We were on the phone with him and he was so wasted. I didn't think he could even comprehend what we were saying, but he took them down and changed the password, I guess, because she didn't do it again."

"I didn't see it. He has me and my brother blocked."

"I'm sure she went in and did that," Samantha said, then there was a silence because both were having trouble fathoming all of the new information. "Never in a million years would I have ever thought that she could do something like this."

"I know. I don't understand why she would ever wanna hurt him. He loved her. He still loves her, I can tell." He sighed, then hung his head and rested it in his hand. "I don't know how I'm supposed to tell him all of this."

"How is he?" she asked somberly.

"It looks like he's gonna make a full recovery, but maybe that's just me being hopeful. He was a vegetable just a few hours ago, but now he's talking normally and everything."

"Brett and I will be praying for him," she said, "and for you and your brother, too."

"Thanks."

"We would love to come by and see him when he feels up to it."

"I'll let him know," Julio said. "Do you think you could send me some screenshots so Drake has proof?"

"I'll do you one better. I'll take a video of me going into the account on her phone. I don't think screenshots will cut it with Drake."

"They probably won't. Good call," he said. "Hey, can you delete that last message we sent so she doesn't get suspicious of us finding out?"

"Got it. I'd better go. I need to call Brett from her phone in case she goes in and checks to see if I did what I said I'd do."

"Okay, and, um, don't tell Dahlia...what he did, please. I don't want her to have that satisfaction."

"I won't."

The two said their goodbyes, then Julio hung up the phone. He let go of his breath and stayed there, mentally preparing himself before he gave Drake the news.

* * *

Julio stayed silent as he held his friend close and let him bawl. Drake's body jerked so hard that he was tightly clutching a pillow against his chest as an attempt to weaken the sharp pains shooting through his abdomen. He had taken the truth hard. Like expected, he refused to believe it in the beginning, but once the video was in front of him, he couldn't deny it. Julio had then showed Drake that there were two profiles for Ricardo Santos, one that he himself was friends with and one that he wasn't. He'd then explained to his hurting friend that it wasn't even possible for the real Ricky to message him because he was blocked. Julio went into Drake's phone and showed him his blocked friends. Both Julio and Ricardo were there, along with Kenzly, Meelah, Mindy, some attractive girls Drake hadn't even spoken to since high school and his family. He had been the one to block his family and it was years ago. It had been too hard seeing them go on living their lives without him and he hadn't wanted them to see him continue to fuck his life up.

Everything that was happening was completely insane. He went back in his mind and analyzed every last bit of his relationship with Dahlia that he could remember. She had caused him so much heartache, and for what? Why had she accepted his proposal if she didn't actually have feelings for him? What if he wouldn't have caught her cheating? She had started pushing for kids and he would've done it, too, just to make her happy. He would've done everything for her. He did do everything for her and none of it was real. This last year with her was a fucking daydream — or more like a nightmare now. It was like he was just waking up and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

This was his karma. He had no right to be upset when he had basically done the exact same thing to Tad years ago. He had caused the same emotional turmoil and he had left scars on the man's heart. Now he knew how it felt. Now he felt worse than he could ever remember feeling.

Julio felt his best friend pull away suddenly, then he watched him lean over the bed and hurl into the garbage can. He knew that he couldn't make this better. There was nothing he could do to take this pain away, but he could offer his support, so he rubbed his friend's back. Drake's puking and coughing and gagging was loud enough that, when Ricardo entered the room, Drake didn't hear him. Julio did, however, and he looked up at his brother, who looked on at the scene before him with sympathy.

Minutes later, when Drake was finished throwing up, he pushed himself back up into a sitting position. This is when he finally noticed Ricardo. He was standing next to him and holding out a damp paper towel.

"I'm so sorry," was all Drake could say and he cried some more. "I'm so stupid. I'm a piece of shit. I-"

"No, you're not," came Ricky's soothing voice.

Since the young man wasn't making any moves to wipe off his mouth, he did it for him. After this, he wrapped his arms around him. Since he was standing, he felt Drake's forehead rest against his stomach as he hung his head shamefully and sobbed. They remained like this for a couple minutes until Drake was finally able to speak again.

"Please forgive me," he said. "Please don't hate me."

"Look at me." Ricardo squatted down so that he was looking up into Drake's eyes, which he tried to hide behind his bangs. He put his hand on the boy's cheek so that he couldn't turn away. "I could never hate you. Ever."

Somehow, this made Drake feel worse. "I'm so, so, so sorry. I should've known."

"Hey, we all fell into her trap," he said. "You just got the worst of it."

"I love her," his voice cracked and went up a few octaves.

"I know."

"Why would she do this?"

"She's a sociopath. She doesn't care about anyone. She met you and she saw how kind you are and how big your heart is and she knew she could take advantage of that. You did nothing wrong."

"How could I be so blind? I'm such an idiot!"

"You're not an idiot. This wasn't your fault. You did everything right. It was her who made the mistake. She'll realize that soon enough. No one will ever love her and treat her with the kindness and respect that you did."

"She's gonna regret it," Julio agreed as he pulled Drake into a half-hug. "You're the best boyfriend slash fiancé anyone could ever ask for. Shit, even I'd marry you if you didn't have a dick."

Drake would've laughed if he wasn't so heartbroken. "God's punishing me for the way I used Tad. I did the same thing to him that Clem did to me."

"You're not perfect," Ricardo said. He hated Tad and he didn't think that Drake should feel the least bit guilty about leaving him, but he did, so he had to work off of that. "You make mistakes, but you mean well. You have a conscience. That's what separates people like us from people like Dahlia. That's what makes you human."

"I'm so tired," the boy said.

Ricardo wiped Drake's tears away with his thumb. "Why don't you lay down and get some rest, okay?" He stood and Julio got out of the way so that he could help the boy lay down. "Everything's gonna be okay," he promised. He brushed the boy's bangs out of his eyes and wiped away more of the wetness on his cheek. "You comfortable?" When Drake nodded, he moved his hand to the boy's bicep and rubbed it.

The patient's voice came out as a weak whisper. "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Ricky promised.

* * *

"Hey, it's okay." Ricardo whispered. "You're okay. It's just a nightmare."

Drake looked at him and felt comfort when he saw his face. It was short-lived, though, and his face soon began twisting and contorting. "Oh, fuck," he groaned in between staccato breaths, then he clutched his chest.

"Can you go to the nurses' station and ask about pain medicine? He hasn't had anything since the morphine." After Julio left the room, the man grabbed Drake's extra pillow and handed it to him to squeeze. "Dr. Sarkov's nice, but they just don't have it together up here like your normal doctor. Maybe when they move you out of ICU and into a regular room, you'll get to see Dr. Mydo."

"It's hard to breathe," Drake complained.

"It's _hard_ to breathe or it just _hurts_ to breathe." One was way more dangerous than the other.

"It hurts."

"I'm sorry."

"It's way worse than last time. How many ribs did they break?"

"Seven and your sternum is fractured."

"Seven? Fuck..." Last time was only two with several fractures, Brett had told him.

"Julio should be back with a nurse in a second." Ricardo could see the pain that his friend was in and it broke his heart.

"Everything hurts."

"What's everything?"

"My back, my...head...arm. My chest feels really tight." Drake had his eyes squeezed closed and his toes curled tightly. He pressed his heels against the mattress, almost like he was attempting to push himself backwards as if he could crawl away from the pain. "No..."

"No what?"

"No, I can't breathe."

"You _can't_ breathe?" Ricardo confirmed.

"No." Drake began coughing now.

The older man turned his attention to the nearby machines when he heard his heart monitor beep faster. "Shit..." He started to make his way out to the hallway, but finally, Julio returned with a nurse. He quickly filled the man in.

"What's happening?" Julio asked when he saw Drake.

The medical professional approached Drake, his demeanor serious. "Mr. Parker, where does it hurt?"

Ricardo answered for him since he was struggling to breathe in between his coughing.

The nurse, whose name tag read Mullins, pulled out his stethoscope. "I'm going to put this on your chest and listen to your breathing," he said, making sure to explain what he was doing so the patient didn't freak out like before. He was the one who had received a punch. He tapped on the young man's chest and listened while Julio and Ricardo stood helplessly by.

"...can't..."

"I'm going to put this oxygen mask on you to help you get some air. Don't panic. I'll grab Dr. Sarkov and we'll see about getting some x-rays done." He hurried out of the room.

Somehow, the oxygen mask made it even harder to breathe. Drake's fingers tightened into fists as he tore at the sheets, his knuckles white.

"Just hang in there," Ricardo said for lack of anything better to say. He gripped the boy's wrist. "No, don't take that off." Suddenly, he felt Drake grab his hand. He met his friend's eyes and saw fear in them. "You're gonna be okay," he assured.

Within the next sixty seconds, Mullins returned with Dr. Sarkov and a couple nurses. The doctor put the buds of his stethoscope into his ears, then listened and tapped his chest in a few places. "It's sounds like a pneumothorax," he said.

"What's that?" Julio asked.

"A collapsed lung," then he said, "Let's get ready to move him."

"Move him where?"

"We're going to get x-rays of his chest for confirmation," Dr. Sarkov explained while the nurses began raising the sides of the bed up to prevent Drake from rolling off as they moved him.

"And if he does have a collapsed lung?"

"We'll put a tube in his side to drain out the air."

"Isn't that the opposite of what's supposed to happen?"

"If it was punctured, then the air is leaking from his lung and going into the membrane that surrounds it. That's where we'll be draining it from. Now if you don't mind returning to the waiting room. I will update you shortly."

With that, they were gone.

* * *

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Ricardo asked softly as he approached the hospital bed. He offered a warm smile.

"I'm okay."

Julio examined the small tube that went into his friend's side between his ribs. "Did it hurt?"

He didn't want them to feel worse than they probably already did, so he evaded the question by simply saying, "They numbed it a lot." He sounded exhausted. "I'm sorry I freaked you out."

"We're just glad you're okay," Ricky said. "Visiting hours are over in a few minutes, but Dr. Sarkov said he'll let us stay an extra ten minutes."

"I don't want you to go," he said softly.

"They won't let us stay. The ICU is strict," he said. "Hey, but you'll be okay. We'll be back first thing in the morning."

Julio turned off the lights, but the one above Drake's head stayed on.

"Just close your eyes." Ricardo petted his hair as the boy repositioned his head on the pillow and did as he was told.

They remained silent. Today had been such a long day for all of them, but Drake especially. He was extremely tired, which is why he was out like a light within five minutes. Julio and Ricardo quietly snuck out of the room, then made their way to the elevators.

"Today's been so... I don't even know how I feel about today," Julio said. "I'm just so fucking exhausted."

"Me, too." He led his brother into the elevator when it opened.

"You think he'll be okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "You remembered your laptop and everything?"

"I got it," said Julio. "You're driving home, right? I don't think I can hold my eyes open."

"Yeah."

"Is Dee gonna meet us there?"

"I don't think so."

This wasn't something Julio normally did, so he felt awkward when he asked, "Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

Ricky had been grateful for Dee sleeping over the night before. His presence had helped him a great deal. They'd thought that Julio had been asleep, but maybe they had been wrong. Maybe he hadn't been able to stop obsessing about Drake.

"Of course." He draped his arm across his brother's shoulder and pulled him closer. It'll be a sleepover, just like when they were younger and would make a blanket fort in the living room floor.

"You tell anyone, though, and I'll kill you."

Ricardo smirked, then ran his fingers through the boy's hair roughly to mess it up. "I'd like to see you try, small fry."

* * *

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Ricardo said when the patient finally opened his eyes. He gave him a warm smile that made Drake feel like today would be a better day.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, his voice strained from tiredness.

"About an hour. No big deal. You slept a long time."

"They kept coming in and waking me up," he complained as he rubbed his eyes.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Nothing out of the norm," he said. "I'm so thirsty."

"Maybe you can ask them about taking the feeding tube out and letting you eat and drink on your own," the man suggested. Worry flashed across his face when Drake quickly leaned over to puke, aiming at the trash can below. Ricky stood, then rubbed his back until he was done.

Drake coughed, then spat into the can. He laid back against his pillow again and clutched his chest while Julio grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste for him.

"You're still throwing up?"

"Sometimes."

"Did you tell them?"

"No."

"Well...Drake!"

"I just wanna go home," he said pitifully.

"I know, but we have to get you better first."

The young man brushed his teeth, then blew his nose when he was offered a tissue. After this, he rested his head with fatigue. "I feel like shit."

"I know."

Ricardo seemed to take a more nurturing approach to the situation, his brother noticed. Julio, on the other hand, hoped that this was enough to scare Drake from ever doing what he had done ever again. He wasn't sure how many more times he could go through this.

"How are things with Dee?" Drake asked suddenly, which caught Ricky off guard.

"We're working through some things," was his answered. "Don't worry about us. Just focus on getting better."

There was more silence, but the young man couldn't drop the subject. "I didn't mean t-"

"I know."

"It's okay to be mad at me. You _should_ be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," the man said. He was disappointed and upset, sure, but telling him this wouldn't help his recovery.

"Why don't we play cards?" Julio said. He had the same idea as his brother; they needed to keep things light. "You up for getting your ass kicked in poker?"

"Can we do something a little less...exhausting?"

"Afraid you're gonna lose?"

"Okay, Julio," Ricardo calmed. "Don't start getting competitive like you always do."

"Whatever. I can kick your asses in Go Fish, too.

* * *

"Have you told him that it was me who found him?" Alice asked as she quietly approached the sleeping boy.

"Yeah." Ricardo pulled up the single chair for her. "I apologize in advance if he's..."

"It's okay. I get it."

"He's been very...back and forth with his emotions."

"I would imagine so," she said as she stood over Drake and examined him from head to toe. There were so many wires and tubes, but she noticed the newest one almost immediately. "What's that?"

"We had a bit of a setback yesterday afternoon. He was having a nightmare and he was thrashing around before I could wake him, which caused one of his ribs to puncture his lung. They called it a pneumo...pneumothorax."

"A collapsed lung..."

"That tube is supposed to get all the air out of the membrane...or something."

"My husband had one years ago in an automobile accident," she said.

"Does it still affect him?"

"No, he's fine now. Once they get the leaking air out and the tear heals, the lung can go back to functioning normally. It can be a painful process, though." She took a seat in the chair. "Has work been okay with you taking this time off?"

"Yes, ma'am. My co-manager's been a godsend."

"Good. I didn't want Drake to be alone. You and your brother — you're wonderful friends to him. Really. I just wish my own son had people like you in his life. Who knows? Maybe he still would've been alive today."

"What was he like, if you don't mind talking about him?"

"He was such a delightful kid," she said. "He was very bright and he was happy. He used to-" She smiled as she reminisced on some of the best times of her life. "He used to hide every time Garrett came home from delivering a truckload to another state. We had this tall, light blue, wicker hamper. It was his favorite spot to hide because it had a lid. When we heard his father pulling up into the driveway, I would lift him up and put him in and Garrett would wander around pretending he didn't know where he was. When he found him, Daniel would laugh and laugh. Garrett would lift him up and give him whatever spare change he had in his pocket." She paused as her eyes watered over. "He was so happy then. I don't know what happened. I don't know where we went wrong."

"Sometimes It has nothing to do with you," Ricardo said softly. "Sometimes it's the chemicals in their brains — the demons that they're fighting."

Mrs. Hayfer nodded, then hung her head. "I suppose you're right." She sniffled as she wiped away the wetness from around her eyes. "I just wish they understood that they didn't have to fight them alone."

Ricardo went over to the counter and grabbed the box of tissues, then he passed them to his former teacher and decided to change the subject to get her mind off of her deceased son and all of her regrets. "I found out why Drake never came back home after he left Dahlia. She had created a Facebook account in my name and she was sending him some of the most...disturbing, ferocious things I've ever read. She told him to kill himself several times, only, he thought I was the one saying that."

"Oh my goodness."

"She said...horrible things about what happened with his dad and when he got involved in sex work. When he woke up yesterday, he hated me."

"How did he find out it wasn't you?"

"My brother and I went through both of the Facebooks comparing. Julio is the one who figured it out. I don't know what he did," he said. "We called Dahlia's roommate and she went through her phone and then we had proof that the messages were coming from her."

"That's disgusting," Alice spat. "I don't understand how she could do that to someone she planned on marrying." After a moment, she said, "It's crazy when you think about it. Drake always had girls all over him everywhere he went. I never pictured him settling down with just one for the rest of his life." She reached over him and brushed his bangs away from his eyes. "He deserves so much better. I hope he finds someone who has just as big a heart as he does."

The gentle touch on Drake's forehead woke him from his slumber. He somehow felt more tired now than he had before his nap. It was extremely hard to hold his eyes open and he was disoriented slightly. "Mmm..." he groaned.

"What's wrong?" Ricardo asked.

He didn't receive an answer. Instead, Drake dozed off again, but only for another couple minutes or so because the blood pressure cuff around his bicep started to tighten. Despite having been told to stay still when this happened, he lifted his other arm lazily and rubbed his tired eyes.

"Hey, Drake," came a woman's soft voice.

For a moment, he thought that it was his mother, but when he looked in her direction and blinked away his blurry vision, he saw someone even more unexpected. His head lifted off of his pillow as if that would help confirm that his eyesight wasn't completely out of wack. "Mmm, Mrs. Hayfer?"

"Yeah." The corners of her lips twitched upwards into a smile ever so slightly, then they went back to their normal downward position.

"Hey," he said, then he put his head back on his pillow and rested his eyes.

 _Hey_. Well, it was better than anyone had expected.

"Hey," she said back.

"S'fucking cold in here."

"Hey, watch the language," Ricardo reminded, then he went over to the closet and grabbed the spare blankets the hospital had provided them with.

"Sorry," the boy mumbled. "It's really cold."

Alice helped Ricky spread the two extra blankets out on top of Drake. While the man fixed his pillow for him, she tucked his legs in tight like her mother used to do for her.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes still closed. His fingers trembled as he gripped the top of the blankets and pulled them even higher. "Where's Julio?"

"He's Skyping his study group in the Subway downstairs."

Mrs. Hayfer took this as her cue to leave. "I can go so he can come in here." She started to stand, but Drake stopped her.

"No, it's okay." Finally, he opened his eyes and met hers with sincerity.

"You sure?" she asked.

"Yeah." He was still half-asleep and it showed when he asked her, "Are you cold?"

"No, I'm okay." She looked at Ricardo, who backed away now that he was finished repositioning the pillow. "Why's he so cold?"

"I think it's whatever they put in the IV." He went over to the other side of the bed and leaned against the glass wall.

"I can feel it in my veins," the boy whispered as he snuggled into the three thin, white blankets. "They won't give me anymore blankets."

"Plus, he's just naturally cold all the time in general."

"Me, too. Especially my fingers." When she said this, she looked down at her hands. Her fingers were long, white, wrinkly bones. "Actually, I might have something that could help." She stood and went over to her purse, which she had left on the counter. "I have a bunch of these HotHands."

"Hot hands?" Drake questioned.

"Here they are. My students would always complain about how hot I keep my classroom, so I started bringing these. They're hand warmers." She opened a pack, then started shaking the two pouches that were inside. "You just shake them like this and then they'll get hot in about fifteen minutes."

She got Drake all set up. She let him use her gloves and she put one pouch in each. She had to be careful with his left hand because there was a large bruise on top from where he had pulled out his IV before. They now had it sticking into his forearm. Mrs. Hayfer also let him have her toe warmers. She put the sticky end against his sock, then Ricardo put the slippers that he'd bought for the boy back on him. Minutes later, he felt much better.

"I'm so warm," he said happily, his eyes still closed and the blankets pulled up to his chin.

"They last a long time, too. About eight or ten hours, I think."

"Bruh, why didn't anyone tell me about these on the streets? I would've sucked dick for these."

"Drake..." Ricardo scolded, but in a kind tone of voice. "Sorry, they gave him pain meds not too long ago and they make him a little loopy."

"Sorry," Drake repeated even though he didn't really know what he was sorry for, then, bringing back up a topic from almost twenty minutes ago, he said to Ricardo, "Can you ask Julio to bring me Subway?"

"A sub's not gonna fit through your feeding tube."

"I can eat it normally."

"You'll have to ask one of the nurses."

"They're gonna say no."

"Then the answer's no," the man said matter-of-factly.

Drake pouted for a moment, then turned to his former teacher with hopeful eyes. He opened his mouth to say her name, but was interrupted before he had the chance.

"Still no," Ricardo said.

"Ugh," the young man groaned and if Ricky was a bit older and if Alice didn't already know these two boys, she would've guessed that Drake was the other man's son. "Fuck my life," he whispered to himself as he tossed his head back against the pillow.

"Bruh..."

"What?" He knew when he looked at the older boy's face. "Mrs. Hayfer says bad words, too. I've heard it." He was referring to the time she had taken him to his motel room and had sworn at him when he'd started kicking the dashboard of her car.

"It's disrespectful," the man said quietly.

Drake started making sure to use a filter. He looked around the room, then his eyes landed on Alice's. He said nothing at first as if he was waiting for Ricardo to interrupt him, but when that didn't happen, he asked her, "So no Subway then?"

The woman couldn't help but smile. "He's relentless, this one."

"Tell me about it," Ricardo agreed.

"What's that mean?" Drake asked.

"It means no Subway."

Alice smiled at his joke, but she couldn't not teach when someone was willing to learn. "It means being persistent, but, like...in an annoying way."

Ricardo snorted at the expression of utter shock on Drake's face. "Rekt."

"Rude a.f., Mrs. Hayfer," Drake replied, with _a.f._ meaning _as fuck_ , but filtered. Even still, he was warming up to her and she could sense this.

Ricardo glanced at his watch. "Someone's probably gonna come in and check on you soon," he said, "so if anyone asks, Mrs. Hayfer's your mom and I'm your step-brother."

"What?"

"They only let us visit you if we were family."

Like clockwork, a nurse knocked on the door within the next few minutes, then stepped inside. Mrs. Hayfer joined Ricardo to get out of her way. She turned slightly as an attempt at hiding her face.

"Hi, Drake." The nurse's name tag read Belinda. She was young and tan and had a giant smile and a bubbly voice. She was someone he would've hit on if he wasn't absolutely heartbroken about splitting up with his fiancée. "How are we doing?"

"I'm okay."

"You're breathing okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good." She went over to the IV pole to change out the empty bag of liquid.

There was a silence for a moment, then Drake, still loopy because of the medication they had him on, said dumbly, "This is my mom."

Ricardo couldn't stop himself from face-palming. "Oh, God..." he mumbled so that only Mrs. Hayfer, who waved awkwardly to the woman, could hear.

Somehow, Belinda's smile got even bigger and she looked at the patient with furrowed brows.

"And this is my step-brother," Drake added.

"Hm, that's funny," she said. "Josh and Mrs. Nichols look a lot different than I remember."

The boy's mind was too fuzzy for him to comprehend that she knew he was lying. "...yep..."

Ricardo, on the other hand, was internally freaking out. If they stopped letting them visit because they weren't blood relatives, then Drake would have no one.

Belinda tried to clue him in on what she seemed to think was hilarious. "You don't remember sneaking me into your room after you thought your parents were asleep and then getting caught by your mom, do you?"

He was confused, so he went with the answer that he thought made him sound better. "...yeah..."

Ricky literally couldn't look at the train wreck before him.

"And cheating off my test papers in Mrs. Hayfer's class?"

Drake was beginning to understand. "Oh..."

The nurse turned and gave her former teacher a smirk. "Hi, Mrs. Hayfer."

"Hi, Belinda. Good to see you."

"I would've thought that after he was out of your class, you would've steered clear from Drake," she joked.

"Believe me. I've tried."

"She thinks I'm relentless," the young man said.

"From what I remember of that night when you snuck me in, I would have to say I agree with her." She laughed and patted his shoulder as if they were old friends. "Why'd you try to hurt yourself, Drake?"

This question took him by surprise and he didn't know how to answer it. However, he felt like he had to say something because although they were around the same age, she was a nurse and, therefore, an authority figure. "I guess I just...felt alone."

"You're never alone," she said, her voice still bubbly, almost like she was talking to a child. "You and Mrs. Hayfer didn't get a long one bit back in school, but she's here and she's worried about you. She wants to see you get better, and this guy right here — he's been by your side since you got here. I promise you you're not alone."

Drake was suddenly hit with a wave of guilt and he lowered his eyes.

"I know you've gone through quite a rough patch, but the world's not all bad. The people who love you and care about you — they're who make life worth living and it looks like you have two of those people standing right in front of you. You've gotta get better for them, Drake. You've gotta get better for you, okay?"

"Okay," he said.

She gave his shoulder another pat, then tossed the empty liquid bag into the wastebasket. "I'll be back to check on you in a little while. Just hit that nurse button if you need anything." With that, Belinda was gone.

The room was quiet after that and the air felt heavy, but before the awkwardness could set in too much, Ricardo slowly approached his friend. "You okay?" He sat down on the edge of the hospital bed and rubbed Drake's arm.

The boy's voice was somber as he looked up at the man, his eyes glistening. "I didn't do it to hurt you," he said.

"I know that, Drake."

"I just...I just thought you..."

"Look at me," he said with such a serious tone that the boy listened. "Even if I were angry — raging like you've never seen — I would _never. ever._ want you to hurt yourself. _Ever._ Do you understand me?"

Drake's almost inaudible voice was filled with shame. "Yes."

"I love you... _so much_." One of the boy's tears silently slipped with this and Ricardo's eyes were getting a little wet, too. "You mean _so much_ to me and I could not have asked for a better friend than you. Having you in my life-"

Drake hung his head as more of his tears fell, but Ricky wanted to make sure he heard him. Sure, the words were going into Drake's ears and into his brain, but his brain could easily contort those when it needed to. Ricardo lifted the boy's chin and forced him to meet his eyes. This way, his words would go into his heart.

"Having you in my life," he continued, "— it's been chaotic, yes, but I have never felt more whole. When you're gone, a piece of me is gone, too."

Drake was often conflicted about what to believe. On one side, you have Ricardo giving him encouragement and hope and praise and on the other side, there's Martin, with his sensible doubts, brutal put-downs and vicious insults. However, hearing these words now — they felt like the truth.

"Please, don't try to leave us anymore," Ricardo said quietly. "I would be so empty without you."

Mrs. Hayfer hung back and stayed quiet. When she looked at Drake, she saw her son and when she looked at Ricardo, she saw the person she wished she could've been. She was happy for Drake — she really was — but it wasn't fair. Both had attempted suicide three times, only Daniel's third time had worked. Drake got to live another day while her beloved son was gone forever. She would give anything just to see him again. She just wanted to hold him in her arms and tell him all the things she'd never said — all the things Ricardo _had_ said. If she could just go back, she could've saved him. She could've made sure that he knew without a doubt that he meant everything... _every_ thing to her.

Tears fell down her face as she watched Drake lean his forehead against his friend's shoulder. The boy's back jerked as he cried. She heard him apologize to Ricky, which was something she'd never gotten from her son. If only she could go back and be the person he had needed her to be...

Alice quietly slipped out of the room so that the two boys could have some alone time. She went over to the elevators and took one down to the ground floor. She was crying the whole time, but the middle-aged woman she was stuck with didn't say anything to her and she was grateful. When she got off the elevator, she passed by the Subway and the gift shop, then she was in the lobby. She went out the sliding glass doors and made her way to the parking garage straight ahead. She needed to calm her nerves. She hadn't picked up a cigarette in six and a half years, but things had been rough these past couple months and the last three days had really pushed her over the edge.

She was parked on the bottom level, so she didn't have to get on another elevator to get to her vehicle. She got her keys out of her purse, then clicked a button on them. The taillights flashed and the car chirped as its doors unlocked. She opened the passenger's side door and reached into the middle compartment for her pack of cigarettes, then she went around to the hood of the car and sat down along the wall. She didn't want to smoke inside her vehicle because her husband would smell it, but she knew that she would be fined if security drove by on patrol and caught her. She grabbed a cigarette out of the pack and flicked the lighter, then closed her eyes as smoke filled her lungs. She hardly got a minute to herself before she was interrupted.

"Mrs. Hayfer?" It was Julio. His backpack was tossed over one shoulder and he was carrying his laptop. He held a pencil and some papers, which were close to slipping out of his hand due to how quickly he'd packed his things. He has seen her rush past the Subway clearly upset and wanted to check on her. "Is everything okay?"

"Drake's fine," she said as she wiped away her tears and sniffled.

He never would've taken her for a smoker, but he never thought that about any teacher, really. "Mind if I...?"

She picked up her pack of Camels and held them out to him, so he slid in between the two cars and approached her. He pulled out a cigarette, then lit it and sat down next to her. For a moment, they stayed silent and just took puffs and exhaled the smoke out of their mouths, then Julio broke the quiet.

"We're only four months in and this has been the shittiest year of my life," he said.

"Yeah, it's definitely up there at the top of the shitty years list for me, too." She was staring at an ant on the concrete. As it scurried on, she flicked her ashes right in front of it and when it tried going another way, she put another obstacle in its way to trap it. When she felt a tap on her shoulder she looked over and saw her former student holding out a flask to her. She accepted it, then took a big gulp. It was whisky. The warmth of it immediately hit her. She could feel it everywhere — all the way down to her toes. She took another drink, then passed it back.

"I can't imagine the memories all this is triggering for you," he said, then he paused and tilted the flask over his lips. He wasn't quite slurring his words, but Mrs. Hayfer could tell that this wasn't his first sip today. "I've thought about it before — doing what Drake did. I've been wishing I had the balls to do it for years. He's done it three times. He mustered up the nerve three times. Every time, I see the toll it takes on the people around him — on my brother. I feel it, too, and sometimes I can't help but hate him for being so selfish — for making things even harder." He took another swallow, then passed the flask along. "And what sucks is knowing that I could never end my own life because I've felt what it's like to stand over my best friend's lifeless body and know that it would be the last time I ever saw him. I felt what it's like to obsess over the last conversation I had with him and regret everything when it's too late to go back. I could never put my brother or my parents or even Drake through that...and I hate him for that."

"I never understood why Daniel did what he did until after he succeeded. Life felt unbearable without him. It was like I had died with him."

Julio took the flask and drank. He kept his head facing forward and stared absently at the hood of her car as he listened.

"One day, I decided that I couldn't be without him for another second. I locked myself in the bathroom and I got in the tub and just started tearing my wrists up." She was no longer crying. In fact, there was no emotion at all in her eyes. It was almost like she was dead. "I laid there waiting for it all to go away — for all the emptiness to go away," she said. "But then I started thinking about my husband — about him walking in and finding me like that. He'd just lost his only son and now his wife was following right in his footsteps. As I laid there, I realized that...there is always something worth living for. Life goes on. We have to go on with it. We have to learn from our mistakes and do the best we can because giving up...giving up is the worst mistake you'll ever make. Once you give up, you'll never be able to take it back."

"So what'd you do?" the boy asked.

"I got up, I got some gauze, I wrapped up my arms and I called an ambulance."

"Do you ever...do you ever wish you wouldn't have? Do you ever wish you would've stayed in the bathtub?"

There was a moment of silence, then she said, "No." Alice met his eyes and shook her head. "I don't."

* * *

Ricardo turned his head towards the door when he heard it open and he saw his brother.

"He's asleep?" Julio whispered.

The man nodded. "Did you see Mrs. Hayfer?"

"Yeah, she went home for the day. She said she'll be back tomorrow."

"I feel bad. I didn't even notice her leave."

"What happened?" He was a bit drunk now, so he sat down the the chair because he didn't want his brother to catch him stumbling around.

"He got upset...about what he did. He feels awful about scaring us."

"He should," accidentally came out of Julio's mouth.

Ricardo approached him and gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "You alright?" he asked with furrowed brows.

"I'm fine," he said harshly.

It was obvious that he wasn't, but the man knew that there was a time to prod and there was a time to back off. "I need to run out to my car to grab my phone charger. I'm gonna grab a drink from the vending machine. You want anything?"

"No."

"Okay. I'll be back."

When he was gone, Julio sat back in his chair and stared at his best friend. Without realizing it, he clenched his fists with fury and his eyes were hard and slanted. He had rage burning inside of his heart and he couldn't help it. He understood Drake. He could totally relate to wanting to kill yourself, but the difference is that he's never actually tried it. You don't do that. You don't just leave everyone behind like that. You don't pass your pain onto someone else. It's not fair.

The young man picked up the remote and turned on the television. He put the volume way down low and flipped through the channels. There was nothing on: some bullshit talk show, a cooking show, _Maury_ , some dumb-looking cartoon on Disney, soap operas. He sighed, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his flask again. He liked the taste of whisky. For the longest time, he'd leaned towards vodka, but that was before he gave whisky a real chance. He had always just stuck with what he knew, but Ricardo had given him a shot at his bar a few weeks ago and Julio had immediately fallen in love. He liked beer a lot, too, but you had to drink so many and it took too long. It wasn't that way with whisky. Not at all.

Despite the television volume being on five, the sudden noise, although extremely quiet, had woken Drake. His room was dark, but he kept it dark because he preferred it that way. Therefore, despite the dim lighting, he could see that Julio had joined him and that Ricardo had left. He could also see the flask that his friend was drinking from.

Julio sighed and mumbled to himself, "Piece of shit," and he turned the tv back off. He straightened in his chair and that's when he noticed Drake watching him. "Hey," he said innocently.

"Hey."

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," the boy said quietly.

"You want some water?" Without waiting for an answer, he stood and grabbed Drake's water cup, then turned his back to him and went over to the sink. This wasn't because he thought the patient was thirsty; Drake got his liquids through the tube in his nose. He just needed to inconspicuously put his flask away without him noticing.

"Julio?" came Drake's soft voice from behind him.

"Yeah?" He turned back to him and passed him the water.

The young man wanted to ask why he was drinking, but he knew why, so he went with this instead. "I'm really sorry...about everything. What I said to you yesterday — I was just...in a bad place."

Julio knew that he was talking about when he told him that he was going to kill himself the second he was released from the hospital. Drake had truly meant it at the time, but now he wasn't so sure. It wasn't completely off the table, but he highly doubted that he would be able to put his friends through this again.

"I've been so shitty," Drake continued. "You've always, _always_ been there for me and I keep letting you down. I don't know how you put up with me."

"Me neither," was Julio's response.

Drake was surprised that he was so honest, but he wasn't offended. "I'm sorry."

He knew that the boy was apologizing because he'd seen the flask and he felt embarrassed that Drake of all people felt the need to ease his way into a conversation about his new habit. The last person he needed a lecture from was some junkie who couldn't stay clean to save his life. The fact that he even had the audacity pissed Julio off in fact and he went on the defensive.

"Save your sorries, Drake. I know they don't mean shit."

"I really am sorry, though."

"I swear, sometimes I wish I never would've met you."

The young man didn't know what to say to this. He didn't want to say anything anyway because he could feel a lump rising up in his throat.

"There it is. That face right there — that my-dad-abused-me face. No one can get mad at you with that face. No one is allowed to get mad at you! You get away with so much bullshit because of what happened to you and it's not okay anymore. You ran out on us! You ran out on _me_! You made Dee break up with my brother, then you did _this_! You did this and now we can't get mad at you for all of the other shit!"

Drake held his glare with his own glazed over eyes.

"You do this every time!" Julio continued. "You break our hearts and you stress us out and you ruin everything, and then you go out there and almost get yourself killed one way or another and we have to pretend like you never hurt us! I have to pretend like you leaving wasn't the reason I started drinking everyday! I have to pretend like I didn't spend every waking moment worrying about you! I have to pretend that I didn't start failing all of my classes because you made me wanna fucking die! I have to pretend that I don't fucking hate you!"

Drake's bottom lip trembled even though he tried his best to stiffen it. He did all he could to keep the tears back, but so much water was flooding his eyes that finally, the dam broke. He stayed silent and he didn't make a move to wipe off his face because he didn't dare break his stare.

"You are the worst thing that's ever happened to me. The second you came into my life, everything became all about you. My brother fucking loves you and it's like I don't mean anything to anyone anymore!" Julio said. "I've lived in your fucking shadow for years! All of my problems get swept under the fucking rug, but then if for _one second_ the spotlight isn't on you, you run off and you make the worst fucking decisions or you relapse or you...you fucking try to kill yourself! Ricardo's been so obsessed with you that he hasn't even noticed I haven't been going to class! He hasn't noticed that I hide in my room all day drinking until I pass the fuck out so that for a little while, I can forget I exist in a world where I will never be nearly as loved as you! So many people love you and do everything to help you because they want you to get better and you just fucking piss all over them every time! You know what I would give to have people care about my feelings like that?! You have taken everything from me! I'm so fucking tired of being here, but I can't even kill myself because you've taken that chance away from me, too!" He had tears running down his face now, too, but he ignored them. "And we both know that you're gonna get out of here and you're gonna try to end your life again and you're gonna make us go through this _all over again_ because it's what you do! But you're gonna succeed one day just like Mrs. Hayfer's son did and my brother will be crushed, and when you do that, I will never _ever_ get him back! You stole my fucking life!"

Alcohol affected Julio in the same way it affected Drake's father. Drake had noticed it almost immediately. He had noticed that fire burning in his friend's eyes. His dad's eyes had looked the same, so maybe that's why his fingers were trembling inside of his former teacher's gloves. A couple more sips and Julio would be throwing punches. He was a raging drunk and Drake was actually scared to be alone with him.

He could feel his mind pulling him back to his father's house, but he didn't want to go there. If he went there, he would be doing exactly what Julio had said he would, then Julio would feel guilty about unloading all of this truth.

Unfortunately, Drake's brain was weak and he was no match against his father's wrath.

 ***FLASHBACK***

A sharp pain shot through the young man's shoulder blades and the back of his head started pounding when he was shoved up against the wall. His dad's face was right in his and the scent of alcohol was so strong that it got Drake choked up. He started coughing, but that was a struggle because his dad's fingers were wrapped tightly around his throat.

"WORTHLESS LITTLE FUCK!" Martin pulled him away from the wall, then shoved him against it again.

Drake clutched the man's hands and tried to pry his fingers away, but he knew he wasn't strong enough. Everything hurt. He had been kicked so many times that there were already dark black bruises all over his torso. His nose was gushing with blood like never before and his lip was split open as well. He was shoved against the wall once again, so hard this time that he started seeing double. Afterwards, Martin yanked him away from it speedily and tossed him down. Drake had a lot of momentum, so he just barely caught himself with his forearms before his face smashed against the concrete flooring of the basement. Immediately, the left side of his bottom was given a rough kick and the force knocked him off of his knees and onto his stomach. This time, his face did make contact and he bit down so hard on his tongue that it bled. Drake choked out a sob as blood poured off of his face and landed in a dark crimson puddle below him.

The young man reached his hands out and started using his forearms and elbows to crawl towards the staircase on his stomach. He lifted his wildly trembling hand and gripped the first one, then pulled himself closer. "GAAHHH!"

Just before he had been able to ascend, his father dropped a cement cinder block right on top of his back. It landed directly on the bones of his shoulder blades, so his back curled up at the pain. He turned onto his side until the block fell off, then he started pulling himself up the stairs. Just for the hell of it, Martin let him get to the top before he gripped his ankles and began yanking him back down.

"Don't!" The young man clawed at the wooden steps, but he was unable to sufficiently grab ahold of one.

"You think I'm just gonna let you go like that?" Mr. Parker asked him.

"I've learned my lesson," Drake said.

"Well, that's great, Drake, but what good is that gonna do you now? You heard your teacher. You've already failed your math class."

The boy moved towards the staircase again, but his dad grabbed the waistband on the back of his jeans and snatched him back with ease. Another sob left him because he couldn't get away.

"Where ya going, Drake?"

"Please, I've had enough," he begged.

"See, I just don't think you have," the man disagreed, then he grabbed a fistful of his son's hair and started dragging him across the floor by it.

"AHH-OW! As an attempt to lessen the pain in his scalp, he clutched Martin's arm and allowed himself to be pulled along.

They stopped at a wooden table, where his dad kept his tools. Drake was yanked up and shoved onto it so that his stomach crashed against the top of it. He tried to straighten, but the man leaned against him, putting his weight on top of him to keep him in place. He grabbed the boy's hand, then pulled it over to the steel vice, which is a tool used to hold things in place.

"Don't..." Drake tried to pull away, but he wasn't strong enough.

Mr. Parker put his son's left forearm between the strong jaws, then twisted the spindle so that they would close.

"Please!" the boy choked out as he stared on in horror. He felt the steel getting smaller and smaller until it was squeezing him tighter than a blood pressure cuff. "You're crushing it!" he yelled with fear as his father kept going. More sobs left him. "Please!" he begged. "Dad!"

Finally, Martin stopped and Drake felt the weight lift from his back. He reached over with his free hand and pulled at one of the jaws, but it wouldn't budge. He tried yanking his arm out, but it wouldn't move at all.

"Ow..." he whined, then he reached for the spindle to get his arm out the slow way.

However, before he could start, his father gripped his free hand and pulled it down to one of the table's legs, then he snugly secured Drake's wrist to it with three zip-ties. They were so tight that these hurt, too.

"What are you doing?" the boy asked fearfully now that he was bent over the table top. He felt his dad reach around him and begin unbuckling his belt, then it was pulled out of the loops. Drake rested his forehead against the table as he wept. Although at this time in his life he could count on two hands how many times he had been raped since the abuse had began a year ago, he knew exactly what was about to happen to him. "Please, don't." He felt his jeans and boxers being pulled down to his ankles, leaving his rear end exposed. "Please, I'll do better. I'll be better."

Tired of hearing his mouth, Martin grabbed a nearby roll of duct tape, then put it over his son's lips. He wrapped the roll around Drake's entire head three times, then tore off the end.

He continued to beg, but it only came out as, "Mmm. Mmm." All he could do was listen as Mr. Parker removed his own clothes and wait while the man got himself hard. Drake was full-on crying when Martin thrust into him without any sort of lubricant. The boy pulled at his restraints, but he couldn't get free. "MMMM!" he yelled suddenly when the man popped him with the belt whilst pumping into him. He was given another whooping. "MMMM!" His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He tried begging him to stop, but it was no use. "Mmm! Mmm! Mmm! MMMM!"

This went on for another three and a half minutes until Martin released inside of him. Drake was sobbing so much that his nose was stopping up and, since the tape was covering his mouth completely, this made it extremely hard to breathe.

His dad still wasn't finished with him after the rape. He wrapped Drake's belt around his hand and continued to beat him until he was raw and bleeding. The boy's muscles were tensed and he winced with each one. His hands, one trapped inside the vice and the other zip-tied to the leg of the table, shook with a mixture of fear and pain and humiliation. Even when Martin twisted the spindle in the opposite direction, letting his left arm lose, Drake remained where he was. He couldn't walk. He couldn't put his clothes back on. He couldn't sit. He could barely move.

His dad grabbed his hand, then began bending his fingers backwards. "You had enough?"

Drake couldn't speak because he still had the tape over his lips, so he nodded his head.

"Are you sorry?"

Another nod.

"Are you gonna sit in class and keep your stupid mouth shut and do all your work from now on?"

The boy's nod was more rapid because he felt like his fingers were going to break now.

"Say _yes, sir._ "

"Mm, mm."

"You're not gonna speak to anyone, are you? You're gonna keep your head down and only speak when spoken to by your teacher. I'll make sure Mrs. Hayfer knows this and tells me if you disobey. You understand?"

"Mm, mm." Nod.

"And I'm not gonna get anymore phone calls from your school complaining about your behavior and your grades, will I?"

"Mm, mm." He shook his head. Drake visibly relaxed when his father stopped bending his fingers back.

"Good. Even though you're getting a zero, I still expect you to do your fucking project and do it well enough to get what would've been a one hundred if you weren't such a fucking retard. Okay?"

"Mm, mm."

Suddenly, Martin started tearing away the tape. When he got down to the last layer, he ripped it away from Drake's skin and hair violently. After that, he grabbed a pair of heavy duty scissors out of the drawer and cut away the zip-ties, then he snatched his son's hair and pulled him up so that he was no longer leaning over the table. This irritated the welts that stretched from Drake's lower back all the way down to his calves and it showed on his face.

"You'll be staying down here until you can walk normal enough to return to school."

"Yes, sir," Drake whispered regretfully. He hated it down here.

"And I better not hear a fucking peep outta you. Understand?"

The boy's eyes were still wet as he shamefully wrapped his arms around his small frame. "Yes, sir."

"Go lay down."

He pointed to a corner. On the floor were some soft things Drake had once found to make a sort of bed for himself. It was comprised of oil-covered washrags, dirty old tee shirts, a torn quilt and some newspaper. This hardly helped. The concrete was so hard and freezing and all of these things were thin and almost useless. However, it was better than having nothing between his bare skin and the cold, solid floor.

Drake could hardly walk over there. He groaned and hissed at the pain in his backside, but finally he made it and that had been the easy part. He slowly bent his leg to get closer to the ground, then he dropped onto his knee with a sob. He couldn't handle anything touching his bare bottom, so he left his pants and underwear off. He removed his shirt, the last article of clothing he had been wearing, and balled it up, then he carefully lowered himself onto his stomach and used the shirt as a pillow.

As he did all this, Martin went over to a shelf and grabbed a few buckets that he had stacked there. He put them on the floor next to his son. These were for him to use the bathroom in. The man then went upstairs and did a quick search around the kitchen. His eyes landed on a milk jug that was half buried in the trash can. He pulled it out and gave it a whiff, then jerked it away from his face quickly as he crinkled his nose. There was still a bit of milk in it, but they'd trashed it because it had gone sour. He went over to the sink and poured out the expired contents, then he gave it a half-assed rinse before filling it up with the sink water. He carried this back to the boy and set it down on the floor.

"You don't get up from that spot. Do you hear me?" he said.

Now Drake wasn't just stuck in the basement. He was confined to one tiny spot in the corner of the basement, making his prison even smaller. He hadn't planned on going anywhere anyway due to the pain, but knowing that he couldn't even if he wanted to made him feel claustrophobic.

"I don't hear a _yes, sir!_ " He raised his hand threateningly and Drake immediately protected his head.

"Yes, sir," he replied quickly.

"If I come down here and you're not there, I'll bust your ass all over again. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

With that, he was left alone and he stayed that way for the next five days and six nights.

 ***END FLASHBACK***

Drake swallowed the lump in his throat. He was going to throw up. He could feel it, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to do anything that would make Julio feel guilty about going off on him because like his friend had pointed out, he did it all the time, although unintentionally. When Drake looked into those rage-filled eyes, he no longer saw Julio. He saw his father standing there and despite it being a hallucination, it felt so real. His heart pounded against his chest so fast and hard that it hurt and he couldn't move. Martin looked pissed, like he was back for vengeance. Drake imagined what it would feel like to have his throat sliced open with a sharp blade and he wondered if he would die of blood loss or if he would choke on it and go that way. He preferred dying of blood loss because that one sounded less painful, but on second thought, getting strangled would probably be the faster way to go. He remembered when he had accidentally nicked one of his dad's major arteries. He had bled out in seconds. Drake had been unable to do anything except clutch the wound in a pathetic attempt to stop the bleeding while his father called him a piece of shit. Those were his last words to him and they were engraved in his brain just as permanently as _WORTHLESS COCK-SUCKING SLUT_ was carved into his abdomen. His father had been right. He _was_ a piece of shit. It was a fucking shame that his suicide attempt had once again failed.

"You're doing it, aren't you?" Martin asked.

Drake's meek voice expressed his confusion. "What?" he almost whispered, fearful as his father took a step closer.

"You're spiraling," the man said, "and now I'm supposed to feel bad and take back everything I said."

Drake felt trapped and his breathing picked up. His fear had him sweating and shaking and his throat was dry as he looked up at that familiar face towering over him. He didn't understand what he was asking, but he knew he was furious. His voice was almost inaudible when he said, "No, Dad..."

"What did you call me?!" He was offended and when Drake blinked away some of the water that was blurring his vision, he realized that Martin Parker hadn't been there at all.

"Julio. I meant Julio," he tried.

"You really got me confused with that piece of shit?!"

"He's not..." Sticking up for his father was a habit that he had and it would probably piss the boy off even more if that was possible. "You're not-"

"I'm nothing like that sick fuck!"

"I know." Time for damage control. "I didn't mean to — it's not you. It's my shit."

"I finally open up to you about my feelings and I get accused of being a murderer/rapist because of it?!"

"It was an accident," the boy tried.

Whether it was an accident or not, the thought was there. To be honest, Julio wasn't even mad at Drake about it. He had seen that look of fear in his friend's eyes. He was probably right. Julio was probably acting a lot like Mr. Parker, which made him hate himself, so he wasn't mad at Drake for getting him confused with his abusive, alcoholic, piece of shit father. He was mad at himself for giving Drake the opportunity to get him mixed up with Martin, but he was taking the blame out on Drake because he refused to admit to himself that he could be anything like that man.

"Julio..." Drake started when his drunk friend turned to leave. He didn't get the chance to say more before the boy was gone.

When Ricardo got back from his car about ten minutes later, he walked in to find the patient sobbing his eyes out. "Hey, what's wrong?"

He wasn't about to tell Ricky about the conversation he'd had with his brother, so he blamed it on something else. "My chest fucking hurts." This was actually incredibly true and his sobbing made it even worse.

"I'll go ask for another pain pill."

"I already did," he said. Again, this was true. He'd been desperate for something that would take the edge off after the argument, even just a little bit. "They won't give me another one." He had a couple hours to go before it was time for another pill.

"Lemme talk to them. Just hang tight, okay?"

With that, Ricardo left the room and, sure enough, he returned with a nurse in tow a few minutes later. Drake was given the pain medicine, but it wasn't strong enough to make him forget about the fact that his best friend hated him for ruining his life. He didn't say a word to Ricky. He just cried for a really long time until he finally drifted off into a restless slumber.

* * *

Drake was surprised when Julio accompanied his brother to visit him the next morning. It was obvious the boy had a hangover, but he definitely hadn't drank enough to forget what he'd said. Drake was willing to talk through things, but he wasn't going to be the one to bring it up for fear of pissing his friend off again.

"Hey," Ricardo said with furrowed brows as he set his bag down.

Drake was already awake despite the time and he was wearing an oxygen mask with a smoky-looking substance emanating from it. "Hey," he said, but he wasn't sure if they heard his muffled voice over the sound of the oxygen being pushed through the tube.

"What's going on?"

He reached up and pulled the mask down so that he could be heard this time. "It got really hard to breathe," he said. "They're gonna take me for x-rays again to check on my lung."

"Is the oxygen mask helping?"

"Yeah." He then asked, "What's that?"

Ricardo followed his eyes to the bag he had brought. "I just got some stuff together for if anyone gets bored during the down time." He went over to the machines and checked the boy's vitals.

"Like what?"

"Crossword puzzles, Phase 10, Uno, magazines — oh, and Dee let me borrow a book: _The Catcher In The Rye_. I read it back in high school and I thought you'd prefer me reading to you over watching court shows on tv all day. It's one of my favorites...and a healthy break from those drug books you've been reading."

"I think I've heard of it. That's the one Mark David Chapman was holding when he shot John Lennon, right?"

"Yeah."

It was getting hard to breathe again, so Drake put the oxygen mask back on. He debated on whether or not he should say something to Julio. He didn't want to say nothing and make things more awkward than they already were — plus, he didn't want Ricardo to notice the animosity between them — but he also didn't want to just say hey like nothing had every happened.

He settled with, "How are you?"

"I'm okay," the boy said back.

Drake left it at that.

* * *

It was only eight in the morning and Julio was drinking already. He wasn't going to get drunk or anything today. He just couldn't handle getting through the day sober. His anxiety had been at an all-time high. He was having panic attacks on a weekly basis, or he _had_ been before he started drinking.

He sighed when he heard the staff rolling Drake's hospital bed back into the room. He put the lid back on his flask, then opened the door to the bathroom so that he could hear the update. He wished he didn't care, but he did. No matter how much hatred he felt for him right now, he would never stop loving him.

"Is the tube working?" Ricardo asked Dr. Sarkov.

"It's working," the man said, "but I'm afraid it's not working quick enough." He had one of Drake's x-rays with him because showing him a visual representation would make it easy for him to understand. "You see, the lung has a membrane around it, sort of like a shell. The air is leaking out of the puncture wound and going in between his lung and his membrane and it's doing it faster than the tube in his side can suck it out. Therefore, that space is growing larger, making his left lung collapse even further." The doctor then passed the x-ray to one of the nurses nearby, then held his hands in front of his chest to demonstrate this next part. "As more air enters that space, it forces the lung to move over towards his heart. This pressure can lead to a pneumothorax in his right lung, heart attack, or even cardiac arrest."

Ricardo felt himself panicking at this news, but he kept his cool expression because he knew that Drake was watching him and he didn't want him to freak out. "So what can we do?" he asked a bit too shakily.

"We're going to put a larger tube in his side to get the air out quicker and we're hoping that this will solve the problem."

"If it doesn't?" Julio asked because he knew his brother would never ask such a negative question.

"If it doesn't, then we'll be looking at surgery."

When Dr. Sarkov left them, Ricardo exhaled out of his nostrils, then approached Drake's bedside. He rubbed his bicep, then softly asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm scared," the boy admitted quietly.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay."

It wasn't dying that Drake was scared of. He honestly didn't care which outcome he got. The thought of the amount of pain he was going to be in is what frightened him. "They're gonna strap me down again. I don't want them to restrain me." Another thing that terrified him — possibly even more than the pain — was not being able to move. He already knew that this would send him back to his dad's house just like it had the first time. He hadn't even complained about the pain then. He'd just kept going on and on about being restrained and on the verge of a panic attack because of this until finally, they'd had to release him just so that he would stop wiggling around.

"I'll talk to them, alright?"

"They're not gonna listen," he said fearfully. The negativity was a response he'd probably learned from his father.

"Look at me. Just take a breath, okay?"

"I don't want them to restrain me," the boy said again. "They have to put me to sleep."

"I'll go find Dr. Sarkov and I'll talk to him, okay?" Ricardo said. "Okay?"

"Okay."

The man left the room and now it was just Julio and Drake. Neither one said anything about the day before. Well, Drake couldn't really say anything because he was on the verge of an anxiety attack, so whether Julio wanted to discuss what had happened or not, now wasn't the time. The patient's breathing was audible now and he reached over to one of the hooks for his oxygen mask. Julio watched him struggle for a short moment before realizing his friend needed help, then he walked over to the machines and handed Drake the mask. The young man gulped in deep breaths of air and pain shot through his chest with each one.

Despite their animosity, Julio empathized with his friend's panic and truly felt bad for him. "It's gonna be okay," he offered softly. "My brother's persuasive as hell. He'll convince them. Besides, they saw how you were the other two times they tried to strap you down. I don't think they would try again."

Drake was comforted by these words, but only slightly. He wouldn't stop freaking out until this was over.

"You're gonna get through this. We're all gonna get through this. You got it?"

The young man looked into his eyes and saw that Julio believed his own words. His confidence gave him hope, so he nodded his agreement.

* * *

Drake wasn't sure how, but Ricardo had really came through for him. He wasn't able to be put to sleep due to the fact that they needed Drake to breathe in certain ways while removing the chest tube, but Ricky had a nurse bring the boy a pill for his nerves and he got permission to stay by his friend's side. Drake didn't know how he had done this, but he'd been gone a while. He probably had to talk to the surgeon directly. She was a kind-spoken woman named Dr. Fender and Drake liked her. She had done the procedure for him the last time and had complimented on the tattoos on his forearms while waiting for the local anesthetic to kick in. She liked the _War Is Over_ one a lot and the two had discussed their favorite John Lennon songs. Ricardo had probably told her some of Drake's past, he figured. It wasn't anything she wouldn't see on his file if she looked anyway. No matter what, Martin followed him around everywhere he went, even this long after his death. He didn't care what his friend had told her, though, because he couldn't imagine things going too well if he'd been restrained.

"Is it beginning to feel numb yet?" the pulmonary surgeon asked from behind her blue mask.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered nervously.

When they began the procedure, Drake's hand was free of the strap. Instead, he rested it above his head like he was supposed to and Ricardo held onto it for both comfort and to keep him from moving. He was still technically restrained in a way, but he trusted Ricky and Drake was extremely appreciative that they had allowed him to be here.

"Okay, you might feel some burning as I take out the old tube," the surgeon warned. "It'll take a few seconds and I need you to hold your breath for me, okay?"

Drake nodded, then did as she instructed him. Like she had said, he did feel a burning sensation, so he closed his eyes. The young man liked her because she was vocal about what she was doing and she didn't lie to him about when he would feel pain and how much there would be. She had told him last time that she'd had to have this procedure done herself years ago when she'd had fluid around her lungs that had needed to be drained, so she knew first-hand what Drake was going through.

Dr. Fender had to cut into the skin some more so that there would be room for the bigger tube. After this, she inserted a Kelly clamp and stretched the hole open. Drake immediately tried to stop her, but Ricardo had a tight grip on his wrist.

"Hey, look at me," Ricardo said.

Drake did. He was wearing his own mask and matching blue smocks. There was a hat over his head, so the boy could only see his eyes really, but they were soft and fearless despite his own concerns.

"You're okay," the man reminded calmly.

Drake involuntarily tried to pull away again when he felt the surgeon insert her finger right into his side and begin feeling around. Ricardo kept his arm pinned above his head. Moments later, they were told that she would begin inserting the tube and although he had gone through this once before, Dr. Fender told him what to expect.

"Just keep your eyes on me," Ricardo said. He could feel his friend's hand trembling. "You're almost done." He felt bad when Drake's eyes watered over. He wanted to cry himself, but he wouldn't.

"How are we doing, Mr. Parker?" Dr. Fender asked.

"It hurts," he said when he felt the tube being inserted into the hole where the Kelly clamp and a finger still was. "It really fucking hurts," he groaned.

Ricardo tightened his grip to stop Drake from doing God knows whatever he would've accidentally done had his hand been free.

"You're doing great," the surgeon said.

"I need...I need to know how much longer."

Drake was the kind of person that could take a considerable amount of pain as long as he had a specific time he could expect the pain to stop or at least lessen. A lot of times when this question was asked, doctors would lie just to offer some sort of comfort. Dr. Fender, however, was honest.

"Fifteen seconds," she said.

Ricardo watched Drake's hand clench into a fist and a tear silently fell down the boy's cheek. He needed to distract him because fifteen seconds could feel like a lifetime to someone in pain. "Look at me. You're almost done. You want me to count with you?" After the boy nodded, he began. "Fifteen... Fourteen... Thirteen..."

Another tear fell down Drake's cheek, but his eyes were locked on Ricardo's and he didn't even break his gaze to blink.

"Twelve... Eleven... Ten..."

Drake felt a rush of pain shooting through him and couldn't stop from exclaiming, "Fuck!" This time, he tried to move both of his hands, but his friend held them both down.

Still, Ricardo kept counting. "Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five... Four..."

"Done," Dr. Fender interrupted. She removed her finger and the clamp, then began suturing the tube in place so that the seal was as airtight as possible.

"It's over," Ricardo repeated.

"You did great," the woman said.

The pain did lessen substantially now that his skin wasn't being pulled open as far and nothing was moving around inside of him, but it did still hurt quite a bit.

"We'll get you some pain medication and I'm gonna send you for more x-rays just so we can have complete confirmation that the tube is in the right place. You know the drill," Dr. Fender said. "You might feel a little sore for a while, but if you start getting pains in your chest, you make sure to tell one of the nurses or the doctor on your floor, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ricardo was still holding his arm in place just in case he felt pain while the surgeon was bandaging him. He offered a warm smile and said, "You did great."

* * *

"How'd he do?" Julio asked when his brother came back into the room.

"He was in some pain, but it went by pretty quickly."

"Where is he now?"

"Getting x-rays."

"You think it'll work this time? This new tube?"

"I think it will." Ricardo tiredly plopped down in the uncomfortable chair with a sigh. "This has been one nightmare of a week."

"It's been four days."

"Is that all?" the man joked back, then he looked at his phone when he heard it ding.

After a moment, Julio asked, "Is that work?"

"No, Dee was asking about Drake." He typed a reply, then continued. "And he said he's off today and wants us to come by and have a home-cooked meal when we can."

"That's nice of him. I was getting kinda tired of burgers."

"Have you spoken to Mrs. Hayfer? Is she still coming?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure she is. She'll probably come by after school lets out."

"So I'll tell him, like... I forget what time the high school lets out."

"Shit, me, too. Three-something, right?"

"I'll tell him four thirty."

Julio watched his brother send the message, then he asked, "So are you and Dee...?"

The man put his phone away now that he was finished with that conversation, but he still didn't meet his brother's eyes. "I don't really know what we are. We haven't discussed it. I think we're both just waiting for the chaos to die down a little."

"I really hope things work out. He's a really cool guy," the boy said, "and I could tell he made you really happy."

"Yeah, he did," Ricardo said with sadness in his voice. "I guess we'll just have to see how it goes."

* * *

Drake woke up to Ricardo's faint voice whispering, "-and they had to put a larger tube in."

"Oh, no." This was Mrs. Hayfer.

"Yeah, I think it wore him out. He's pretty much been sleeping all day."

"Ricky?" the boy said so quietly that they almost didn't hear him.

When the man saw that he was awake, he went over to him. "Hey, you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Drake said.

"You breathing okay?"

"Yeah."

"You feel any pain?"

"A little," said the patient. "But just the normal pain."

Ricardo nodded. "Julio and I were gonna grab something to eat. Mrs. Hayfer's here. She's gonna hang out with you for a while. Is that cool?"

"Yeah."

Quieter so that only his friend could hear, he said, "Be nice, okay?"

"I'm always nice."

Ricardo cracked a grin at this, then spoke at his normal volume again. "And before you start hounding her — because I know you will — _no food_."

Drake rolled his eyes and frowned.

"Okay?"

"Okay." He was annoyed and it showed, but Ricardo was just glad to see a bit of the old Drake returning.

"We'll probably be back in an hour — two tops."

"It's okay. You don't have to babysit me all the time," Drake said. Maybe pushing him away would push him closer to his brother.

"Well, someone's grumpy." _This is a good sign,_ Ricardo thought.

"I'm not grumpy," the boy said grumpily.

Ricky gave his shoulder a pat, then turned back to Alice. "Good luck with him. He's in a mood."

" _Not_ in a mood."

After the man was gone, Mrs. Hayfer approached Drake's bed. Somehow, he just now noticed the balloon that she was carrying. It read _"Bee well"_ and it had a cute little bee buzzing away past some flowers. It was lame, Drake thought, but at the same time...it was nice. His eyes even lit up slightly when he saw it. Despite his many trips to the hospital, the last time he had been given a get-well-soon balloon was the summer his dad had put him in the hospital. His mother had went all out with balloons and flowers and such as if that would make up for abandoning him for two months.

"I got you a balloon," the woman said and she passed it to him.

Drake gripped the string and pulled it down so that he could look more closely at the picture.

"Sorry, it kinda looks like it's for a little girl. The selection was very limited."

Drake didn't mind. It would definitely bring some color to this boring, dreary room. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

She was surprised when she saw him attempt to tie the end of the string to his wrist rather than the bed and it made her feel like he really appreciated it. Alice could tell that he was struggling to tie the knot with only one hand, so she went over to the left side of the bed and said, "Lemme help you." She made sure that it wasn't too tight so that it wouldn't cut off his circulation, but she also didn't give it much of a chance to slip off either. "I also brought you some things."

She set a large red birthday bag on the table where Drake's food would've gone had he been given any, then she reached her hand inside. She didn't see the look of confusion on the boy's face. "I brought some more of those HotHands...and these fluffy socks. I know they're ugly, but they're warm."

Drake watched her remove more things from the bag like it was Christmas morning.

"I got you some gloves because I didn't know if you liked the pinks ones I gave you. Here's a hat to match. It'll keep your ears warm." She lifted a colorful box out of the bag and it had two overly excited preteens girls making bracelets on the front. "I thought maybe if you were bored, you might like this. Maybe it can take your mind off things to do some arts and crafts. My husband really got a kick out of it when he was in the hospital. Don't tell him I told you that, though." Finally, she pulled out a wool blanket that had a ribbon tied around it to keep it neatly folded. It was thick and had a black and blue plaid pattern. "I wasn't sure which color was your favorite. I thought blue would be relaxing," she said. "I have one of these at home. I love them. It's the warmest blanket I've ever owned. Feel how soft." She passed it to him so that he could rub his hand against the wool.

"Wow," he said, but in a sad kind of way. Drake lifted his head and looked up at her. He'd never before thought of her as someone who would ever do this kind of thing, especially not for him. He'd honestly never looked at her like she was an actual human being. Accepting these things made him feel guilty, but he couldn't say no because that would hurt her feelings. "You didn't have to do all this."

"It's okay. I just wanted you to be comfortable."

With those words, Drake knew why she had done this. "You don't have to feel bad."

"I know," she said. "I just...maybe if I hadn't done the chest compressions so hard...and now you have all these extra problems. I mean, you probably would've already been out of here or close to it if it weren't for the broken ribs."

"No, I would've been dead," the boy said. He had been told by his doctor that the early administration of CPR had saved him. He could've survived without it possibly, but he would've been a brain-dead vegetable, which was worse than dying. He looked down and absently slid his fingers up and down his new blanket. "I don't really know yet how I feel about still being here and I don't know if it was for the best or not," he admitted, "but I do know that you did the right thing. I keep causing my best friends a great deal of pain and it would've been a thousand times worse for them if I would've succeeded — if you and your husband didn't do what you did. For that, you should be proud."

The corners of her lips twitched upwards just barely, but they did. "I just wish things were different. I never gave you a real chance before writing you off and I should've been more vigilant."

"I think we've both done a few things to one another that we're really sorry for," he said. He would never understand how she could be so nice to him after catching him with her husband. He lifted his head and met her eyes. "You're very kind," he said. "I didn't know that before."

"Well, I was never really kind to you."

"I wasn't kind to you either," he said. "I guess Josh was right all along. You're pretty cool."

"Cool?" She grinned at this. "Well, I must say that's a first."

Drake smiled, too, then he said, "Thanks for being here. I know Ricky and Julio get tired of me being so annoying and helpless all the time."

"I think they just wanna see you get better," she said.

After his fight with Julio, Drake wasn't so sure about this anymore.

She then added, "We all do."

* * *

 _"Anyway,"_ Mrs. Hayfer read aloud, _"I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around — nobody big, I mean — except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff — I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy."_

Before she could go on, she heard Drake say, "I like that part," then he asked, "What's it mean?"

"Well, it's about protecting the innocence of children. Holden sees this as a primary virtue, which probably stems a lot from his own struggles with growing up."

"Oh, okay." The young man felt like he could relate to the main character a lot in this way. He nodded for Mrs. Hayfer to go on, but before she could, she heard the door open behind her and turned to see Ricardo.

The first thing he noticed was the mess Drake had on his table, then he saw the teacher with a book in her hand. "What's going on in here?" he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I'm making bracelets," Drake said.

"I see."

Alice stood and went over to the sink to grab a tissue. She folded it neatly, then stuck it in between the pages of the book so that it would act as a bookmark.

"Wow, you guys got really far. I didn't realize I was gone so long. Sorry," he apologized to the woman.

"No, don't worry about it. I'm always glad to give you a break." Mrs. Hayfer began gathering her things so that she could head home and allow Julio to take her place.

"So how are you liking the book?" Ricardo asked his friend.

"You were right. It's really good."

The man then noticed the red bag and said, "What's all this?"

"Mrs. Hayfer brought me some things to stay warm," he replied, "and this bracelet-making kit." As he spoke, he never looked up from the table, where he was working on a pink and green colored bracelet.

Ricardo didn't go through the bag, but he saw a variety box of HotHands and a thick blanket underneath. He knew that it had to have been pretty pricey, especially that nice-looking blanket. "Wow, that's very kind of you," he told her.

"It's no problem," she said.

When he saw that she had her things, he said, "I'll walk you out. I'll be back, okay?"

"'Kay," said Drake.

He walked with her all the way to the car and thanked her again for the things she had brought his friend. He asked how much she had paid for everything and pulled out his wallet, but she refused to take any money. Ricardo continued to express appreciation on his own and Drake's behalves, then she promised to come back tomorrow. They said their goodbyes and Ricardo closed her door for her, then he headed back up to the fourth floor and swung by to get his brother from the waiting room before going back to Drake's room. When they arrived, there was a young nurse that had been working the day the boy had first gotten admitted. Her name was Aniyah. She had dark skin and even darker hair and she had sparkling emerald green eyes and beautiful lips that lit up the room when she smiled. As the Santos brothers stepped into the room, they heard her complimenting the bracelet that the patient had just finished. It was obvious by her demeanor that she meant it and wasn't just saying that to gas Drake up or to be friendly because she was getting paid to do so.

"You can have it if you want," the boy said.

"Really?" Her eyes lit up.

"Sure." He passed it to her. "It matches your eyes."

It was because her eyes were green and she had on soft pink frames. He didn't mean for it to sound so flirtatious, but once it left his mouth, he realized that it did. She was hot as fuck, but she wasn't the type that you would call hot. She was the type that you would drool over and keep repeating to her how pretty she was. During some other time in his life, he would've been all over this girl, but right now, even though he knew he shouldn't be, he was still stuck on Clementine.

"Aw, thank you! You're so sweet." She put it on immediately, then tossed Drake's empty IV bag away and bounced out of the room after trashing her gloves and squirting antibacterial soap onto her hand. Aniyah gave the other two boys a friendly hello as she went.

"Damn, dude," Julio said. "I think she's into you."

He already had his head down and was beginning another bracelet. "Not if she's read my charts. I'm fucking crazy."

"You're not crazy," Ricardo said. "You're life's a little hectic, yeah, but you're not crazy."

He changed the subject. "What did you guys eat?"

"Nunya."

"You're really not gonna tell me?"

"So you can sit there and drool about it? No, I'm not."

"What's all this," Julio asked when he crossed the room and saw the red bag sitting against the bed.

"Mrs. Hayfer brought some stuff," Drake said.

"Wow... So what, are you two, like, friends now?"

The young man couldn't answer because he could feel a strong wave of nausea suddenly race from his throat. He dropped what he was doing and leaned over the edge of his bed where his trash can was sitting. This quick movement hurt his ribs, but that was nothing compared to the forceful puke that shot out moments later. Julio could see the pain that he was in, so he approached his sick friend in between rounds and lifted the can so that Drake could take it and lean back against the bed. While he was doing this, his brother was wetting some paper towels.

About a minute later, Julio asked, "You done?"

Drake nodded pitifully and wiped away the tears from his eyes. He wasn't crying, but his eyes had watered over from retching so hard. Julio took the trash can into the bathroom and dumped the gross contents into the toilet, then he turned on the shower and grabbed the nozzle off of the hook so that he could clean it out. Back in the room, Ricardo was wiping up the splatters on the floor next to Drake's bed that had missed the garbage can.

"I'm sorry," the patient said helplessly.

"Hey, it's okay." He had to leave the napkins in the floor until Julio got back, so he went over to the sink and washed his hands. "We need to mention this to your doctor the next time he comes in. You haven't been able to hold down anything they're giving you through the tube."

"It's okay. It's just the pain medicine making me nauseous."

"We still need to tell them."

"They'll stop giving it to me."

"They'll give you something different," the man said, "or something to help with the nausea."

Drake weakly pushed away the roll-away cart. He wasn't in a bracelet-making mood anymore. He just wanted to lay there and do nothing. He didn't even have the energy to talk. After all the mess was cleaned up and everything was back to normal, he fell asleep listening to his friends talk.

* * *

Drake didn't want to wake up. He was the kind of sleepy where it takes several blinks just to clear up the blurry vision and he had to really fight just to be able to hold his eyes open despite how dimly lit his room currently was.

"Rise and shine," came Ricardo's cheerful, teasing voice.

Drake turned his head towards his voice and said, "Hey."

"Did you have trouble sleeping again last night?"

"A little."

"Any nightmares?"

"No," he said.

"That's good."

The young man was nauseous already. He tried his best to push those feelings away, but it was too early to be strong enough to fight it. "I'm gonna..."

Ricardo knew what was up the second he saw his friend gag. He quickly grabbed the trash can and gave it to the boy, who immediately threw up. Ricky frowned sympathetically and pet Drake's hair. "Dr. Sarkov came in earlier and said he wanted to get more x-rays when you woke up to see if the new tube was working. I was outside on the phone with Georgiana, but Julio talked to him. He mentioned all the nausea and vomiting and Dr. Sarkov said he wanted to do some blood work to be sure it's nothing internal before changing around your medicine."

That was two things he already had lined up for the day and it upset him. "I'm so tired," he whined. "I wanna go home."

"I know," the man said. "Soon."

Julio wondered if Drake regretted his suicide attempt now that he was dealing with — not only the emotional — but physical repercussions of it. He hoped that his friend always remembered how miserable this moment in his life was because maybe that would help deter him from another attempt later. Although he felt this way, he also felt bad when Drake started crying, so he joined his brother, but on the other side of the bed, and he rubbed the boy's back.

Drake didn't know why he couldn't hold in his tears. Maybe he had just woken up in a really bad mood this morning. He was drained and overwhelmed and he just wanted to be back home in his own bed eating real food and watching things on tv that he actually liked. He wanted to not be in so much pain all the time.

"The x-rays won't take long," Ricardo said soothingly as he sat down next to the patient and put his hand on his leg. "Maybe the tube worked and you'll be able to get it removed. Once that happens, you shouldn't be in here much longer."

"What if it didn't work?"

"It worked," the man assured.

"But what if-"

"It worked," he said again, but with a firmer tone. He spoke with so much confidence and faith that the other two boys believed him.

Even still, Drake continued to weep. He could feel Julio rubbing his back, which confused him. Just days ago, he had hated his guts. He probably still did. Julio just had a kind heart and hated seeing Drake suffer despite their recent fight. Just like his friend had told him, Drake was hogging all of the attention. He'd been doing this all week — all month even though he hadn't even been there. He had to stop being so outwardly emotional.

The young man sniffled, then wiped his eyes. "I'm okay," he said although more tears came. He was an emotional wreck and Ricardo saw this.

"Why don't I read to you?" the oldest suggested.

"I'm okay."

"It'll take your mind off things."

It wouldn't. "I said I'm fine, okay?!" he snapped.

Ricky backed off. "Okay."

Drake wanted to apologize. He was immediately overcome with a wave of guilt, but he needed Ricardo to stop focusing on his well-being all the time. Julio was suffering because of this and it wasn't fair. Things needed to change in their relationship. He needed to rely on himself more. That hadn't really worked out for him recently, but he was gonna try the single life for a while, so maybe the outcome will be different. He couldn't imagine ever being with someone other than Clementine. It would take a long time to get over her.

The other two young men stopped crowding him. Julio sat down and pulled out his phone while his brother stepped out to let Dr. Sarkov known that the patient was awake. Although Drake was dreading the x-rays and then the blood work, Ricardo felt it best to go on and get it over with. That way, he won't have to think about it anymore. Besides, maybe he'll get some good news and his mood will improve.

For the first time since he had arrived here, Drake picked up his cell phone off of the roll-around table. Facing the world had seemed too overwhelming before, but now he was curious what was happening in the lives of people who weren't stuck here. He had quite a few text messages and voicemails. There were some from Brett, Samantha, Gemini, FakeRicardo, RealRicardo, Julio, Rhinestone and Sawyer. That's so many people. He opened Julio's and Ricardo's first because he was pretty sure they were from the day he had ran out on them, which meant that they were now irrelevant and he wouldn't have to take the time to respond. Gem's, Rhinestone's and Sawyer's messages were all very similar. Apparently, they'd all seen some shit about the break-up on Facebook and were curious as to what had happened. Gemini also had another thing to say.

 **Gemini: uhhh so Josh is asking when ur gonna pick up ur cats? wtf is going on?**

Drake had completely forgotten all about his kittens and he felt horrible for it. Also, he had no recollection of seeing Josh again. He wondered if he had done something he'd regret. Would he have slept with him? He probably slept with him. What a fucking mess.

He left that message unanswered because he wasn't sure when he'd get out of the hospital and he didn't want to have to tell Gemini where he was right now. Sam and Brett messaged in a group chat asking how he was doing and if he needed anything. They deserved more than an _"I'm okay"_ text, but he really wasn't feeling too social at the moment.

 **Drake Parker: im ok srry to mKe u worry will call ltr**

 **Samantha Watson: Drake! glad 2 hear from u! cant wait 2 hear ur voice. me and brett have been praying & thinking about u babe.**

 **Drake Parker: he at work**

 **Samantha Watson: yeah, he should be home around 5.**

 **Drake Parker: ill call tben**

 **Samantha Watson: :) :) :)**

Despite knowing that it was a horrible idea, he read the text from Ricardo/Dahlia. Reading it knowing that it was from someone he had loved enough to propose to broke his heart. He wondered if she really believed her own words or if she'd just wanted to make Ricardo sound as hateful as possible. He felt like such a fool. He had been so fucking in love with her and not a single part of the last year was real. He felt betrayed and confused and humiliated and several other emotions — too many to name. Overall, the biggest question he had was why? Why had she done what she did? He pondered over this for a few minutes before realizing that, like always, he was finding ways to blame himself. Even after everything, he still felt like it was his own fault and she was innocent. Even after everything, he wanted to run to her and hold onto her tightly and listen to her tell him that everything would be alright. Why couldn't he hate her?

The young man angrily threw his phone down towards the foot of the bed. "God, I'm a fucking cuck."

Julio looked up from his phone, then pushed himself onto his feet. "Is she still messaging you? I can block her."

"No, it's okay."

"You're gonna call her out?" He wasn't sure whether or not this was a good idea, but it was Drake's decision to make and that bitch definitely deserved it.

"I don't know yet."

Ricardo soon returned and gave Drake the news that they were about to take him for the x-rays. He groaned, then rested his head against the pillow with a huff.

* * *

"I guess I'd better get going," Mrs. Hayfer said a few moments after Ricardo returned from his late lunch or early dinner. She stood, then she grabbed her jacket off of the back of her chair.

"Um, before you go..." Drake dragged the roll-around table closer, then pulled open one of its drawers and retrieved a bracelet. He held it out to her. "I made you this." He meant to give it to her earlier, but he was nervous for some reason. Maybe it's because he knew it was cheesy, but this was all that he could do to pay her back for everything she had done for him. "You said your favorite color is yellow and I used gray because — I don't know. I just like those colors together."

Mrs. Hayfer seemed surprised. She was touched by his gesture and it showed. The corners of her lips curved upwards into a smile. "Wow, thank you. You seem to be getting the hang of making bracelets." When she took it, she noticed that Drake was wearing one that looked just like hers. "You have a matching one."

"Yeah, so when I look at it, I'll remember that someone cared enough about me to save my life twice," he said, "even if you were the last person I would've expected to do that."

Alice felt her eyes water over. For a moment, she just stood there, stunned by his kind words. As a teacher, she tried and tried to get through to her students and although some liked her, she didn't often feel like she was connecting with them and teaching them anything of value. Today, she was proven wrong. Finally, she had made a real, positive impact on a young man's life and she would treasure that forever.

Drake was taken aback when she leaned over and carefully wrapped her arms around him. However, he accepted the embrace and hugged her back. He was saddened because she reminded him of his mom and how he had almost died and she never would've known. A long time ago, he had thought that this would be for the best, but now he thought differently. Maybe the napkin Meelah's parents had given him with his mom's address on it was stuck in his head or maybe being around Mrs. Hayfer so much lately was making him miss her, but he did. He really missed her.

When they pulled apart, Drake met her eyes and said with sincerity, "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," she said, "and I'll be back tomorrow." Since they had finished reading _The Catcher In The Rye_ today, she asked, "Do you want me to bring another book?"

"Yes, please."

"Any requests?"

Ricardo spoke up. " _Appropriate_ ones. I'm sure Mrs. Hayfer doesn't wanna read about drugs and sex and f-bombs."

Drake shrugged.

"I'll surprise you," she said, then she bid him farewell before allowing Ricky to walk her to her car.

While they were gone, the young man picked up his phone. It was almost 5:30, so he knew Samantha and Brett were waiting for his call. He went through his contact list and found the girl's number. It rang only twice before she answered.

"Hey, Drake!"

"Hey, sorry I'm a little late."

"Oh, it's okay."

"Hey, bro," came Brett's voice. "How are you?"

"I'm okay."

"We've got you on speaker because we're making dinner, but don't worry. It's just us two," the girl said.

"What are you making?" Drake asked. God, he couldn't wait until he could eat again.

"Pork chops and macaroni."

"I'm jealous."

"You don't like the food there?"

"I haven't really been able to eat anything. They've been feeding me through a tube." He felt embarrassed when he told them this — not because getting food through a tube was embarrassing, but because he had tried to kill himself, failed and was now facing the consequences. "I've been throwing up a lot, so they did blood work. Maybe after they figure out why, they'll let me eat."

"Maybe it's nothing. I mean, you throw up a lot in general because of your nerves, right?"

"Yeah. I tried to tell them that I think it's just the medicine they have me on because that's mostly when I get sick, but I guess they just wanted to be sure."

"Better safe than sorry."

"So how are you doing?" came Brett's voice. "You making progress or...?"

"Yeah, my right lung collapsed the other day and they had to put a tube in to suck out the air, then a bigger one because the first one wasn't working fast enough, but they did x-rays today and said I should be able to get the tube removed tomorrow."

"That's good. What caused your lung to collapse?"

"One of my ribs punctured it. I've got seven broken ribs this time."

"Shit."

"Yeah, Ricky said they were doing CPR for a while and that I went into cardiac arrest four times."

"Fuck, bro..."

"Yeah..." Drake hated the awkward silence. "Um, I'm sorry if I upset you guys. That wasn't my intention."

"We just wish you would've come to us is all."

"I know. I'm not sure what happened. That day's kinda just a blur," he said. "I'm sorry about taking your pills. I shouldn't have done that. I didn't stop to think how you would feel."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, okay? We're just so relieved that you're getting better."

"Okay, sorry."

"Do you think you would be okay with us visiting?" Samantha asked.

"Yeah, but they're only letting family in while I'm in ICU. I'll let you know as soon as I get into a regular room."

"Have they been letting Ricardo and Julio in?"

"Yeah, we had to tell them that they're my brothers and Mrs. Hayfer and her husband are my parents."

"Mrs. Hayfer?" Brett questioned. "Like...from high school?" He was twenty-five, so he was too old to be in her class when Drake was, but she had taught math at that school for a long time.

"Yeah, she and her husband were the ones who found me. She's been coming in everyday and sitting with me for a while and reading to me."

"Aw, that's really nice," Sam said, then she heard him yawn. "Have you been bored up there? Do you need us to drop anything off with Ricardo?"

"No, thank you. Mrs. Hayfer bought me this bracelet-making kit, so I've been doing that and playing cards and watching Netflix mostly."

"Make me a bracelet," the girl said.

"What colors do you want?"

"Hmm...surprise me."

"Okay." Again, Drake yawned.

"You tired?" Brett asked.

"Sorry. Yeah. Today's been a busy day and I've been sleeping so much, but I keep getting woken up by nurses and doctors and stuff."

"Well, we won't keep you. Go on and get some rest."

"It was good talking to you," Samantha said. "Call us any time."

"Thanks. I will."

"Bye."

When Drake hung up the phone, he rested his head against the pillow and let go of his breath. When the two brothers returned five minutes later, they found him asleep.

* * *

Drake was already awake when the Santos brothers arrived the next morning. They found him spitting into the trash can in his hands, then he started puking again.

Ricardo frowned sympathetically. "Hey, Drake," came his soft voice.

The boy glanced up at them, sniffled and panted for air. "Hey," he said pitifully. He looked exhausted and drained, like he hadn't gotten much sleep. His face was pale and his eyes were dark.

"You look like shit," Julio said. "Did he come back and tell you the results from your blood work?"

Drake only shook his head and sniffled again.

"Are you nervous about getting the tube removed today?" Ricardo suspected as he brushed his friend's bangs away from his eyes and felt his forehead.

"I'm okay." He was so tired that it came out on a whisper.

"She'll be super fast," the man assured, "and I'm sure she'll let me in there after how well you did last time."

Drake took the wet paper towel his friend passed to him and wiped off his mouth. He kept his head low when Ricardo took the can from him to empty. "I'm sorry." He had tried to kill himself and in doing so, had put his friends through hell, yet here they were, cleaning up his puke because he was completely helpless.

As the patient brushed his teeth, Julio went over to the other side of the room and plugged his phone charger into an outlet. His phone let out a soft chime to confirm that it was charging. He then slid his back down the wall until he was sitting on his bottom. He pulled his laptop out of the bag that hung around his torso and set it down on top of his lap, then opened it.

When Ricardo exited the bathroom, Drake was pulling his four blankets — the top one from his former teacher — up to his chin. He noticed that the boy's fingers were trembling. "You cold?" he asked. "Did you run out of HotHands?"

"No, I accidentally knocked the bag off the shelf and now I can't reach them."

Julio was closer, so when he heard this, he set his laptop to the side and scooted up. He rolled the table away and saw the red bag resting sideways on the floor behind it, its contents spilled out. He gathered them up and put them back into the bag — all except one pack of hand warmers and one pack of toe warmers. He passed Drake the hand warmers and tossed his brother the others since he was standing.

"Thank you," Drake said quietly and Julio swore he hinted a bit of shame in his voice.

"You could've called a nurse in here," Ricardo said as he opened the pack and went over to the foot of the bed.

"I didn't feel like talking to anybody today," he said. He didn't mean them or Mrs. Hayfer; he meant the plethora of nurses that came in and out at all times of the day and night. He felt bad because they were sweet to him, but he just wished he was back home in his own bed.

"I'm gonna go see if Dr. Fender is in her office and make sure it's okay for me to be in there during your surgery," Ricardo said after he stuck the toe warmers onto Drake's socks and replaced his slippers. After that, he was gone.

Julio looked up at Drake, who was snuggled up and waiting for the warmers to kick in. "I guess you don't feel like quizzing me, do you?"

The young man reached his hand out from under the many blankets, so his friend scooted up and passed him the stack of flash cards he had made.

* * *

Drake blinked a few times until his vision cleared up. He lifted his arm and rubbed his heavy eyes while letting go of a tired moan, then he let go of his breath and turned to the seat that Ricardo was always sitting in, but this time, he found Mrs. Hayfer.

She offered him a warm smile. "Hey," came her soft voice.

"How long have you been here?" His voice was strained from exhaustion.

"Not long. Maybe ten minutes." She saw the boy rub his eyes again and asked, "Did you get your nap out?"

"Yeah, sorry. Today was so exhausting."

"I heard. How are you feeling? Any chest pains?"

"I'm okay," he said. "My throat's a little sore."

Alice saw him eye the grocery sack on the table with curiosity, so she reached over and pulled out its contents. "I checked out these books at the school library. I wasn't sure what genre you were into. Julio said reading's new for you and I should choose a couple different categories so that you can explore something new."

"What'd you bring?"

She held up the first book. "I got _Maniac Magee_. It's about an orphan boy and involves themes of racism and homelessness. I got _Holes_. You might have already read it back in school or seen the movie. Shia LaBeouf gets sent to a camp run by crooked people and he has to dig holes as punishment for stealing a famous basketball player's shoes." She picked up a thicker book. "I wasn't sure about this one. It's called _Uglies_. It's like a dystopian novel where you're considered ugly until you turn sixteen, then you undergo a surgery to make you pretty and you move into New Pretty Town. The main character's friend runs away to this refuge that opposes the government and she's given the ultimatum to find her and betray her friend or remain an Ugly forever. Does that sound like anything you would be into at all?"

Drake shrugged. "It sounds interesting. I'd be willing to give it a shot. It's not like I have anything else to do."

Mrs. Hayfer held up another book, this one lime green with nothing on the cover other than the title and a photo of a pair of pants at the top and the author's name printed in white ink at the bottom. "This is _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_. It's a coming-of-age story about a young man navigating his way through his freshman year of high school, then I got _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ , which you probably already have a general idea of the plot, I'm sure." When the boy nodded, she picked up the final book. "This one is one of my favorites. It's called _The Outsiders_. It's about two rival gangs in the sixties, the Greasers and the Socs, one poor and one wealthy." When she finished, she looked up at Drake to get an idea of his thoughts. "I know they're all young adult books and nothing like the books Ricardo said you read, but it's the high school library."

"No, they all sound pretty cool," Drake said. "Do you feel like reading now?"

"Of course," she said. "Which one would you like to hear?"

"We can start with your favorite."

Alice was touched that he chose this one. She felt like it meant that he valued her and her interests. She picked up _The Outsiders_ , then opened it to the first page.

* * *

Ricardo furrowed his brows and frowned slightly when he walked into Drake's hospital room. He could immediately tell the mood was somber, which meant that either his friend had received bad news or he was all caught up in his feelings. "What's going on?" he asked.

Instead of sitting in the chair like normal, Alice was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had been rubbing Drake's arm and softly speaking to him to offer him comfort, but now she turned to Ricky. "Dr. Sarkov came by and said they wanted to do surgery to stabilize his ribs and avoid the risk of him getting another puncture."

"I just wanna go home," Drake complained.

"I know," the man said sympathetically, "but we've gotta get you better first. They're gonna put you to sleep. You won't feel anything."

It wasn't the pain that Drake was worrying about — not for the most part anyway. Tomorrow, the day of his surgery, he'll have been here for an entire week. All he wanted was to go home and relax in his own bed unbothered for a couple days. He wanted to take a nice, long shower instead of having to resort to sponge baths and dry shampoo. He wanted to feel the privacy of a bathroom and not have to keep using a portable toilet that was pulled up right next to his bed in times of need. He wanted to eat. The feeding tube never quite satisfied his hunger and it just wasn't the same as biting into a big, juicy burger or greasy French fries. On top of that, he felt guilty for pulling Ricardo and Julio away from their lives. They were both here from sunup to sundown and had to deal with Drake's mood swings and helplessness. He had abandoned them both and he'd treated them poorly in the process, yet here they were. Even Mrs. Hayfer was here everyday for a couple hours either reading to or chatting with a guy she had once found doing sexual favors for her husband.

Alice continued filling Ricky in. "He also said the blood work came back fine, so he's gonna try a different pain medicine."

"That's good," he said in an assuring manner in hopes that it would make the boy feel better. "Once they change your meds around and get you to the point where you can hold down your food, they'll take you off the feeding tube."

This did actually seem to make Drake feel a little better.

Back in the waiting room, Julio was sitting in one of the chairs in the very corner and he rested his head against the wall next to him. He was exhausted and being here all day everyday for close to a week wasn't helping. The waiting room chairs were just as hard and uncomfortable as the one in Drake's room and when he was in his friend's room, he and Ricardo had to share the chair, so he often had to sit on the floor or on the edge of Drake's bed or stand . He just wanted to rest on an actual couch. It had been a long time since he'd been able to do what he'd actually wanted, like lay in bed all day, depressed and drunk. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to do, but he needed a break.

Suddenly, his phone chimed, alerting him of a text.

 **Ricardo Santos: wanna come on back? gonna walk Mrs. Hayfer out but drakes upset so i dont want him to be alone**

Julio couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes, but he told his brother that he'd be there shortly. He loved Drake. He knew it probably didn't seem like it lately, but he did. Part of him felt guilty about the things he had said to him when he was drunk and angry, but for the most part, he was just glad to have gotten it off his chest. He had been carrying that around with him for so long and it felt like a weight had been lifted from him. He hadn't even been drinking as much. He still drank quite often, but he wasn't getting completely wasted every single day. Maybe only half of that was due to the relief he felt when he'd finally gotten those words out. He felt like another reason his alcohol consumption had lessened was due to the fact that his best friend had confused him with his rapist father. It had really stung at the time and he'd been pissed, but after he'd sobered up and looked back at the situation, he understood. Julio had been acting like a crazy, raging drunkard, which Martin Parker often did. When Drake was around this kind of behavior, his PTSD would kick in and he'd get flashbacks. It wasn't his fault and it wasn't him trying to make Julio feel bad. The boy's actions had triggered something in Drake. PTSD wasn't something that Julio understood well. His friend would have these moments like he was hallucinating or something. It was like he had hopped onto a time machine and traveled back in time to three years ago. He could never comprehend how the flashbacks could be so vivid and feel so real to Drake, but he knew that they did and he accepted that. His raised voice and venomous words had taken Drake back there and, for that, he felt guilty. He couldn't imagine what his best friend had been feeling. He couldn't imagine everything he had gone through. They didn't talk about it too much, but when he heard stories now, he couldn't fathom how he had never before noticed when they were teenagers. He should've seen it. To his credit, Drake had been constantly drugged up and, therefore, hid his emotions well if he even felt them. Now he was sober and everything got to him.

Julio passed his brother and former teacher in the hallway and he told her goodbye before going into Drake's room. "S'up?"

"I hate my life."

"Relatable." He plopped down into the chair next to the bed.

"What is wrong with us?"

Julio was taken aback by this question. "What do you mean?"

"We're not normal. There is something actually wrong with us."

"We just have issues, but that's normal. We just don't hide them as well as other men."

"I feel like you hide them alright."

"Well, Mama didn't raise no bitch, so..."

The corner of his lips curved upwards and he let out a chuckle. Still, Julio saw the smile fall and his eyes water over.

"Drake..."

"I know. I know." He closed his eyes and pressed his pointer fingers into the inside corners as an attempt to block the tears. He sniffled and it was muffled due to his nose being between his hands. He wanted to not cry; he really did. Sometimes, it just couldn't be helped. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a crybaby all the fucking time. It's so pathetic."

Julio could see that he meant his words and that he wasn't trying to manipulate him into feeling bad about blowing up on him the other day. "Where are you right now? Get out of your head."

"I don't even know why I'm crying." His tears still managed to get through, so he gently wiped them away with his index fingers. "Fucking hell," he whispered to himself. He felt ashamed and embarrassed. He needed a distraction. "How was your day? Can you tell me about your day?"

"My day?" Julio paused as he thought back on it. "It's not too eventful. I woke up, took a shower, got dressed," he listed. "I came here and hung out with you and my brother. Gemini texted me. I just told him you were okay and that you didn't feel like socializing and you'd call him as soon as you felt up to it."

The fact that his day had revolved entirely around Drake wasn't making the boy feel better and Julio noticed this. He did have other non-Drake things happen, but for some reason, they hadn't felt worth mentioning. He was purposely distancing himself from his best friend and he just now noticed it. It was like he didn't want to bother the boy with the little details of his life or maybe he felt like he didn't deserve to hear them. Either way, it was toxic behavior and he needed to cut it out.

"My professor approved the extension I asked for on my paper, which is good because I haven't even started it. I fucking hate English class." He most likely would've been late on this paper whether Drake was in the hospital or not due to general laziness. Plus, English was always at the bottom of his priority list. "My brother gave me shit about it when we ate, then he gave me a lot of ideas for topics because I guess that's what I've been struggling with most. After we ate, I went to the bathroom and when I came back, our waitress was hitting on Ricardo. She got all embarrassed when he told her he didn't play for her team and she assumed that I was his boyfriend even though we literally look just like one another. I cleared her up on that shit real fast, then — get this — then this bitch asked for _my_ number after Ricardo went up to the register to pay!"

"What'd you do?"

"I took her pen and wrote the number to the Crisis Text Line because that child needs some fucking help."

Drake busted out laughing at this. He was still weeping a little, but he was beginning to feel much better other than the pain he felt in his ribs from laughing so hard.

He then pulled out a pen. "Stole that little bitch's pen, too, because it's one of those good pens that writes like markers." He twirled it around in his fingers, then held up his prize.

"You're such an asshole." He was crying again, but this time from laughter.

Julio's eyes landed on the bracelet making kit that Mrs. Hayfer has brought. "Aye, show me how to make a bracelet." He went around to the other side of the bed and grabbed the box.

"For you?"

"No, for Hannah."

"From study group?"

"Yeah."

"Did you finally ask her out?"

"No. Shut up. I'm stealing that move you did on that nurse the other day."

"I wasn't trying to hit on her."

Julio just shrugged. "I'm gonna make a bracelet. Hannah wears brown and yellow a lot, so I'll make that. She always has on tons of bracelets, too, so she'll definitely comment on mine, then I'll give it to her — the bracelet, I mean."

"Yeah, thanks for specifying."

"Don't be a jackass. Are you gonna show me how or not?"

"Yeah, whatever, Jesus. Just..."

Julio looked down at him when he trailed off and he could tell that the boy was overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. Drake was always nauseous now that he was taking this pain medicine, but sometimes an uncontrollable urge to vomit would come out of nowhere, like now. He couldn't wait until he started the new medication.

"You gonna hurl?"

Drake had his eyes closed and the back of his hand over his mouth, but he shook his head.

 _He's definitely gonna hurl._ Julio lifted the trash can and put it in front of his friend and it was a good thing he did this, too, because the boy immediately started spewing vomit from his lips.

"Fuck, bruh."

The sick patient held the can in place with one hand and clutching his sore ribs with the other. Julio went ahead and wet a napkin for his friend to clean up with after, then he placed the small bottle of mouthwash Ricardo had bought onto the table.

"Fuck..." Drake panted, then he winced at the pain in his abdomen. He coughed, then gagged, then coughed again before more puke came up. He looked pitiful as he sat there drooling and spitting into the bucket while panting for breath. "...fuckin' chest hurts..." Tears stung his eyes again.

After another minute, Julio started to pull away the can. "You done?"

Drake couldn't speak. He only grabbed his hand to stop him while shaking his head. However, nothing more came up and the nausea subsided for the most part not too long later. Julio emptied the garbage can and rinsed it in the shower. When he exited the bathroom, his friend was laying with his head against the pillow and he was wiping the water away from his eyes.

"You tired? You wanna watch tv or nap?"

Drake shook his head and reached for the bracelet box.

"We can do that later."

"It's okay." His voice went in and out. He cleared his throat, but it still cracked. "I'm fine."

"I think you should rest."

"I wanna do it," the boy argued. "I need a distraction."

Julio gave in then and sat down in his chair. Drake gave him a quick tutorial, then let his friend take over while he rested and gave him tips along the way, then he fell asleep.

* * *

"Hey, Drake." Ricardo gently brushed his friend's bangs out of his eyes. "How was your surgery?"

"Good," the boy said absently on a whisper. He stared past the man at nothing in particular.

"You feeling okay?"

Drake nodded.

"He's still a little groggy and confused from the anesthesia," a nurse explained as she locked the brakes on the hospital bed she had just wheeled in. "If he starts complaining about discomfort, let one of us know. It's okay to put another pillow under his head, but we wanna keep these two under his back for now to have him angled on his side and we need to refrain from changing the position of the head and foot of the bed."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"Here's your remote." She put it next to the patient's head, which was resting atop his folded arms.

He stared at her emptily.

"You press that nurses button if you need anything or if you have any issues, okay?"

Ricardo pushed for a response when the boy didn't give one. "Drake?"

He nodded.

She continued to fill the other two boys in on how the surgery went, when his symptoms would clear up, what to expect and what to look out for. When she was finished with that, Ricardo thanked her and she left. Julio hung back and allowed his brother to handle things because he didn't want to crowd and overwhelm his friend.

"You in any pain?" Ricky petted the boy's hair softly. "Drake?"

"M'cold."

Julio brought over his blankets from the closet and helped the oldest spread them out gently over the patient.

"Do you want some hand warmers?"

He didn't answer, but he got some anyway and put the boy's gloves on him, then slipped them inside and stuck the toe warmers onto the bottom of his socks, which he covered with his slippers.

"Ricky?" Drake whispered so quietly that he could hardly be heard.

"Yeah?"

"I don't feel good."

"I know." Again, he ran his fingers through the young man's hair. "It won't be much longer. They'll probably keep an eye on you for a couple days, start you on some actual food, then move you to a regular room for a little bit."

"I don't want you to go."

He furrowed his brows with confusion. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want you to go at night."

"Hey, don't even worry about that. We've got all day. That's a long time from now."

"Will you watch movies with me?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, what do you wanna watch?" He started to pull out his phone, but his brother stopped him.

"Here, use my laptop. It's a bigger picture and you won't have to hold it the whole time."

As he went over to his bag to get it, Ricardo again asked, "What do you wanna watch?" but he didn't receive an answer.

"Do something with sharks or outer space or something Aronofsky," Julio said.

"Is that okay, Drake?" Still nothing. "Hey." He squatted down next to the bed to be at eye level, so his younger sibling started searching for a movie. "Are you okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Can you talk to me?"

"Mm-hmm."

He repeated his question to get confirmation. "Are you okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You'd tell me if something felt wrong?"

Drake shook his head this time.

"No?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Okay. You know I'm not trying to be annoying. I just want you to tell me if you start feeling different or weird."

"Mm-hmm." Drake paused. "I just don't feel like talking today."

"That's okay. Just keep me updated, okay?"

Nod. "'Kay."

Minutes passed before Julio said, "Bruh, all I can find on Hulu is _Zathura_." This was basically the outer space version of _Jumanji_.

"Isn't that a kids' movie?"

"At least it's light." He shrugged. "It's got Dax Shepard in it. He likes Dax."

"Is that okay?" he asked and he could just barely tell that Drake was nodding his head.

Julio set the computer up on the roll-away table so that it faced Drake and his brother, who had moved his chair up closer to the head of the bed. "Brett wanted me to call after the surgery, so I'm gonna step out for a few minutes."

Ricardo nodded.

"Mrs. Hayfer also texted and asked how the surgery went. Drake?" he said softly and the boy looked at him. "Do you feel up to having Mrs. Hayfer come by still or do you not wanna be social today?"

"Yeah."

"Which one? You want her to come?"

"Yeah."

Ricardo stopped his brother before he left. "Ask her, if it's not too much trouble, if she'll stop by the school library and check out a movie or two. I know they have the ones for teachers to check out in the back."

"Okay."

When he was gone, Ricky reached for the mouse and started the movie, then sat back in his seat.

* * *

"Drake? Hey, sweetie, wake up," Alice said softly as she patted the boy's forearm.

His eyes shot open suddenly with alert. Her soft blue irises were the first things he saw and they calmed him almost immediately.

"You were just having a nightmare," she said.

Drake groaned tiredly and pulled his blankets up closer to his neck. He rested his eyes again, but he remained awake. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a couple minutes."

"How are you?" Now that the anesthesia had fully worn off, his speech was much better and actually made sense.

"I'm okay. What about you?"

"I'm okay," he mirrored.

On the contrary, she could see his fingers trembling and she had heard him pleading with his deceased father in his slumber. She frowned sympathetically. She hated that he was feeling so scared and refused to admit it. Ricardo had told her about the PTSD that Drake sometimes suffered from. This was a sign he had told her to watch out for. Things could get bad if she didn't snap him out of it. _"Don't give him time to get stuck in his head,"_ he had said.

Alice reached out and gently took his hand, which caught the boy off guard. He opened his eyes and gazed at her and he could tell then that she knew what his nightmare had been regarding. She softly swept her thumb back and forth against the skin on the top of his hand

"I'm okay," he said again.

She still didn't let go of his hand, but he didn't mind. She reminded him of his mother in a way. God, he missed her. She would've been devastated had she known where Drake was and why. Even a week after it had happened, he still wished he would've succeeded, but he was beginning to feel really foolish for doing what he had done over a girl who had treated him like shit and had taken advantage of his fragile mind.

As she held his hand, he saw that she was still wearing her gray and yellow bracelet and she noticed that he was still wearing his. It was an unexpected friendship. That was for sure. He only wished that Josh were here to see it, but it was probably best that he wasn't. He used to think that about the time he and Mindy had first started actually getting along, but then things got really messed up. Josh would probably only think that Drake was trying to pull yet another person who had liked Josh better away from him.

"How did you deal with it," the boy started suddenly, "when you caught your husband with me?"

She was taken aback by the question, so she was quiet for a moment. "Well, I'm not sure. I was mad for a long time. There were days when I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him or even look at him. He apologized a lot, but it wasn't until the day you first got here that I think he really _felt_ sorry about it. We've been trying to work things out. We still have our bad days, but...I think we'll make it through this."

"I didn't mean to cause so much trouble."

"I know. He could've said no. It's not your fault." Despite his genuine feelings of guilt, she knew he hadn't asked to pry into her personal life. "I don't think you should compare what happened to me to what happened to you. It's different. It'll take a long time for both of us to heal, but Garrett's working on changing. We've been together for a really long time and nothing like this has happened before. My husband's a good man. He really is. We've been going through a rough patch since we lost Daniel."

Her and Drake had never discussed her son, but after seeing his former teacher crying in the parking garage that day, Julio had filled his friend in to make sure he didn't say anything rude or triggering about the sensitive subject of suicide around her.

"We've argued quite a bit, but never has he ever treated me poorly or hit me. That being said, just because we're trying to work things out, it doesn't mean that would be best for you."

"Ricky told you."

It wasn't a question, but she confirmed it anyway. "Yeah."

"Well, what would you do if your situation _was_ like my situation?"

Mrs. Hayfer thought for a moment. "Well, I did have a guy cheat on me back when I was in college."

"You did?"

"Yeah," she said. "I was in love with him, too. I thought he was the one, but I went to his dorm room one day to pick up a textbook I had left and caught him with Kelly Gursy."

"What did you do?"

"What any normal, sane person would do," she said. "I destroyed everything he lent me, slashed his tires and slept with his best friend, then I stole his school books and tore every single page out of each one so he'd have to buy more. That way, he wouldn't be able to spend money on another girl for a long time and maybe he'd even flunk his classes."

This surprised Drake although, if he would've heard this same story a month ago, he would've believed it. "Fuck..." he said, then he retracted. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said. "In hindsight, though, I may have went a little overboard. If I could go back, I'd probably just stick to slashing his tires."

"I don't think that would make me feel better."

"It won't," She shook her head. "but it sure as hell won't make it feel worse either." She paused, then said, "That's Alice giving you advice. Mrs. Hayfer would say that letting go is hard, but nothing can make an ex feel regretful more than learning how to move on. If you just go on with your life, be with your friends, find you a job or get into school or fall in love and marry, she's gonna look back one day and realize what she missed out on. It's tough, but letting go of her is the best kind of revenge," she said. "Mrs. Hayfer would also probably tell you something along the lines of I hate you."

This was something she used to say to him all the time back in school and he would always respond with-

"I know." This made him smile and she smiled back.

* * *

 _(5 days later)_

"Careful," Ricardo said as Drake got out of the wheelchair.

"I got it."

He had been in ICU for two more days. In that time, they'd removed the feeding tube and had put him on a liquid diet. After a bit more intensive monitoring, Drake was moved to the regular ward, where he started physical therapy. Today was the day he finally got to go home.

"Careful!" the man said again as he crowded his friend. He was prepared to catch him if he fell.

Drake winced as he sat down in the passenger seat of the car. "I'm good."

"Need help with the seat belt?"

"I got it." He winced again as he slowly moved his arm back.

Ricardo watched him struggle to reach the belt for a moment before passing it to him, then he closed the door for him and thanked Belinda, who had rolled Drake out. As he got into the car, she moved closer to the open window.

"You remember to take it easy and do those breathing exercises I showed you, okay?"

He nodded.

"And I better not see you back here for the same reason again!" she said with a strict voice, then she smiled and waved.

Ricardo cranked the vehicle, then looked at him with a smirk. "You ready to go home?"

"Yeah."

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Drake cautiously leaned forwards in his seat and turned on the radio. He scrolled through the stations and the second he found one and sat back, Ricardo pressed a button and turned it to one of his saved stations.

"It's cute that you think I'm gonna let you pick the music."

"I almost died."

"And when you finally do die, which will be a long, long, long time from now, you can come back and haunt my car and control the station whenever you like."

"Dick."

"Where?!" He exasperatedly pretending to search the sidewalks they passed.

Drake blinked a couple times. "Was that a fucking gay joke?"

"Funny, wasn't it? Dee taught me that one."

The boy laughed, then winced.

Ricardo wore a concerned expression. "You sure you feel up to stopping by that guy's house today?"

"Yeah. I miss my fucking cats."

"When we get off the highway, put the address in your GPS. I think I know where it is, but I just wanna be sure."

There was no traffic, so they made their way to Josh's house and arrived within twenty minutes. Drake got out of the car and went up the walkway leading to his front door. He knocked, but didn't have to wait long because Josh was expecting him.

"Hey," he said awkwardly when Josh opened the door.

"I was wondering when I'd hear from you again."

"Sorry."

"Come on in."

He followed the man inside.

"I wanted to clear things up about that night," Josh said. "You ran off so fast that I didn't get the chance to explain."

"Explain?"

"Yeah. My boyfriend's totally cool with it. He does it, too."

"Um...I'm sorry. I was... I don't...really...remember much...about that night."

"You don't remember having sex?"

He figured he had after learning that he'd came here that night, but having it confirmed still made him disappointed. He awkwardly shook his head.

Josh wasn't incredibly upset about this because it just meant that Drake didn't remember him cumming after only five pumps. "While we were fucking, you saw this picture of me and my boyfriend on the wall and freaked out. I thought Gemini would've mentioned him. See, we both love each other, but neither of us believe in tying ourselves down to one guy sexually. If I have a guy over, Caleb will go hang at a club or somewhere until I text him to let him know the guy's left and vice versa. We have a very open relationship."

"Oh," was all Drake could say.

"So if you ever wanna come by, you have my number now. All you have to do is call," Josh said. "And if you're into threesomes, we can make that happen."

He didn't know what to say. He just came for his cats and got hit with all this and he wasn't prepared. "Okay," he said shyly.

The man smiled, then started walking again. "Your cats are in here." He led the boy over to the bathroom and opened the door.

"Meow," went one kitten.

"Hey, Macaulay!" His voice went up an octave or two.

Luckily, she used her sharp claws to climb up the leg of his pajama pants and his other cat was already on the counter, so he didn't have to bend down and pick them up.

"Agent Jack Bauer, I've missed you!" He rubbed his fingers through the animal's fur and heard it purr at his touch.

"I'm sorry. Did you just say Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer?"

"I don't like boring cat names."

"Apparently, they don't either. I just called them both Kitty and they ignored me until I had food."

This reminded him. "Oh, yeah. Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash.

"Oh, no, it's okay-"

"Take it." It was thirty five dollars that Ricardo had given him to give to Josh.

"You don't have to pay me anything."

"You've been feeding and taking care of two cats for two weeks, so just take the money. It'll cover what you spent on food and litter and toys." He noticed two tiny, brightly-colored toy mice on the floor. "You could've called the shelter, but you kept them even when you didn't hear from me for days. I'm so grateful that you would do all this for me and I just want to give you something to show you how much I appreciate everything."

Josh still wasn't making any moves to take the cash, so he left it on the bathroom counter and picked up his kittens.

"Did I...leave a book bag here by chance?"

"Yeah, it's on the coat rack."

Drake saw him finally pick up the money before he led him to the rack behind the door and grabbed his bag for him. The young man put his kittens inside and left a hole for them to breath out of, then he carefully put on one strap.

"You alright?" Josh asked when he noticed him winced.

"Yeah. Just a little banged up."

Somehow, the man just now noticed the white bracelet around his wrist. "You were in the hospital?"

"Yeah, but everything's all good now."

"What happened?"

"I just had an accident."

"Drinking and driving?"

"No, nothing like that. It doesn't really matter now, but, uh-" He took a step towards the door, then turned back to him. "-again, I super appreciate this. I can give you more money if that's not enough."

"No, this is fine. Thank you."

Drake offered a small smile, then he let himself out and went back to the car. Once inside, he unzipped his bag all the way so that he could play with his kittens.

"How'd it go?"

The boy shrugged casually. "It was weird."

"Did he accept the money?"

"I just left it on the counter."

"Anything else you need to do while we're out?"

"Nope. I'm just ready to go home."

Ricardo smiled and put the car in reverse. "Home it is."

* * *

"Here we are." Ricardo turned and pulled the car up behind his brother's.

Drake breathed out a sigh of relief. "God, it's been so long since I've been here, I feel like."

"It's good to have you back." The man offered a warm smile.

Drake unbuckled his belt and opened the door. His friend hurried around to his side to help him, but he refused his aid.

"I got it." He clenched his teeth as he got out.

"You good?"

"Yeah." He clutched his ribs as he slowly started walking up the driveway. "Mrs. Hayfer's here?" he noticed.

"Yeah, just act surprised, though." Ricardo opened the door for him and the boy followed him inside.

"SURPRISE!"

Drake turned towards the entrance to the kitchen and was met by five giant smiles, which belonged to Julio, Mrs. Hayfer, Samantha, Brett and Gemini. There was a large banner that said _'Welcome Home, Drake!'_ hanging up. Brett and Gem had probably worked on this because they were the most artistically inclined. There was also cake. One was a rice krispy cake, which was his favorite. It looked homemade, so Samantha was probably in charge of this. The other was a store-bought New York style cheesecake, another favorite.

"Wow," he said lamely. He didn't even have to act surprised; he _was_ surprised. "This is really nice. Thank you."

Samantha approached him first and carefully wrapped his arms around his neck. Her and her boyfriend had visited him in the hospital when he had been moved out of ICU. Gemini had been the last to know just because he had always gotten along really well with Clementine and Drake hadn't wanted her to find out where he was and why. After he hugged him and kissed Drake's cheek, Brett pulled him into a gentle embrace and told him how glad he was that Drake was okay. He led the boy over to one of the stools and sat down next to him.

"Ricardo, where are the knives?" Alice asked, and Ricardo went over to a drawer and passed her one for the rice krispy cake since the cheesecake came pre-sliced.

Julio grabbed the roll of napkins and tore off a couple pieces and set them next to his former teacher so that she could put some cake on each one. "Drake, you want one of each?" When the boy nodded, he went on to the next person. "Samantha?"

As they all hung around the kitchen conversing and eating, Drake was reminded that there were plenty of people who cared about him. Somehow, being with Dahlia had made him forget, but right now, he felt just how much he was loved.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I think this is the longest chapter I've written. My goodness. It took forever to edit. I had to research a lot of the hospital procedures and stuff and I tried to make it as accurate as possible, but I've never experienced any of this, so I don't know. I wanna thank the guest that reviewed the last chapter. Your comments were so sweet and yes, I love to destroy Drake. Ha ha. I was surprised that you said it was your favorite chapter so far because I wasn't incredibly satisfied with it, so that's very encouraging to hear.**

 **Anyway, please review. I've worked so hard on my writing and I keep trying to push through my writer's block and I did hours of research just for this chapter alone. Also, Mrs. Hayfer. What are your thoughts? I love her now. Finally, the subtle hints of Julio's growing alcoholism that showed up in early chapters is starting to really show. That'll come to a boiling point in the next few chapters. Plus, I'm introducing a new character in the next chapter that I think is super likable.**

 **One more thing: does anyone actually read these author's notes? I was thinking about giving small hints about things to look forward to like a "Coming up on Sorry, Charlie..." type of thing. Is that something anyone would want, or do you prefer heading into each chapter completely blind? Lemme know. Okay, that's it. CCC ya!**


	11. Crazy

_(6 weeks later)_

Ricardo pulled his car into an empty space and put it in park, then he turned off the ignition and sat back in his seat. He looked at the boy sitting next to him. "You ready?"

Drake said nothing. He was clearly nervous, his friend noticed, but that was to be expected, he supposed. He glanced at the building for a moment, then pointed his eyes down to his lap

"Drake?"

"Do I have to do this?"

"Dr. Mydo insisted that it would be a good idea."

After being transferred to the regular ward, Drake was reunited with his normal doctor, who had cared for him a majority of the times he had been admitted to the hospital in the last three years. He remembered Drake due to the severity of some of his cases and always seemed to offer the best care. Therefore, Ricardo held his opinion in the highest regards.

"I really don't wanna do this."

"It won't be long. They're just gonna help you get better, Drake. You really need some help. We can't have you trying to hurt yourself again, right?"

"I promise I won't," he said. Drake was an adult and could make his own choices. He could say no. He could refuse, but Ricardo wanted him to do this and he didn't want to disappoint him. He owed him.

"I can't make you do anything. It's your choice, but I really think you should go."

Where was it that he wanted him to go? The Wood Lake Behavioral Health Center. This was just a fancy term for mental hospital or nut house or loony bin or funny farm. He'd been here once before when he was thirteen and his mom had found out that he'd cut himself. It had been a one-time thing. He'd just wanted to know what it was like and she'd freaked out. That was eight years ago and he'd hated it. He never wanted to go back, which is why he'd hidden his emotions for so long and probably part of why he started using drugs in the first place.

Drake knew that if he admitted himself, then he'd be here for at least a week. That's how long he'd stayed when he was younger. The divorce was fresh, the abuse was fresh, he had just hit puberty and had tons of unknown hormonal shit going on, and his mom had locked him in here. This place had only made things worse. That was a very dark time for him and he didn't often think about it.

Ricardo frowned when his friend started crying. "Drake..."

"I know. It's okay. Just give me a second." He wiped the water away from his eyes and sniffled. "Fuck." He didn't wanted to cry and he hated himself for doing it.

"It won't be forever," the man tried, "and you can call us everyday and we'll come every visitation day."

Drake sniffled again, then he wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeves. "Lemme just smoke first." He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the cubby underneath the radio and got out of the car. He closed the door and lit the cigarette with shaky hands as he inhaled. Smoke filled up his lungs. As he slowly let go of his breath, he slid his back against the metal door until he was squatting.

Not long after, Ricardo got out of the car and joined him. He didn't say anything. He just sat down on the concrete next to him and he didn't argue when Drake lit his second cigarette, then his third.

"Okay, I'm ready," the boy said nervously. He pushed himself up, but before he could walk inside, Ricardo stopped him.

"Hey, I'm proud of you."

Drake gave him a tiny smile, but he couldn't hide his worry.

"Everything's gonna be fine. Just focus on getting better, okay? Please. I just want you to be okay."

"I will."

Ricardo rubbed the boy's bicep for support, then started walking with him inside the building.

* * *

"Drake?" The lady wore a kind smile. "You can come on back now."

He'd been sitting in the empty waiting room for hours. He had no idea why it had taken so long and the anticipation made him nervous. He and Ricardo peeled themselves off the couch, both hesitant, and walked over to her. She stood in front of two menacing metal doors.

"Non-patients and workers aren't permitted past this point. If you haven't already, now's the time to say your goodbyes."

When Drake was younger, he remembered being told something similar. The employee had asked him if he wanted to give his mother a hug and he'd said no. That's because he had no idea that he was going to be kept longer than one night. He wasn't going to make that mistake again, so he wrapped his arms around his friend, which Ricardo hadn't expected. He knew that Drake was a little nervous, but even still, he was surprised when he felt him shaking a bit.

"You'll be fine." He hugged back. "I know it sucks, but I'm so proud of you for doing this."

Drake took comfort in the older man's embrace, but he knew he couldn't stay there forever. When he pulled away, he gave his friend an assuring smile to let him know that he'd be alright although it wasn't too convincing.

"I just have to go over you with this," the orderly said as she held up a metal detector. "Just a precaution to make sure you're not sneaking anything in."

Drake had to hold his arms out next to him as she hovered the device over every inch of his body. When that was done, she pressed a button on a keypad and scanned her card. After a moment, someone opened the doors and the boy looked at Ricardo one last time.

This time, he offered the assuring smile. "You'll be fine."

Drake followed her back and the doors closed behind him. They took a right and there was another set of double doors. Again, the lady pressed a button, scanned her card and waited for someone to open the doors. There were more doors immediately to his left. Looking through the glass, he could see a couple teenagers and the next room he passed had little children who looked to be as young as seven or eight. _Jesus..._ , he thought, pausing shortly to ponder why they would be here before his own problems and anxieties returned to him.

"Here we are," his guide said as she approached the last set of double doors on the left.

She went through the process of opening them again and being so securely locked away was beginning to make Drake feel claustrophobic. As he entered, another lady came around the counter of the nurses' station to greet them.

"This is Drake," the one he was with introduced. "Drake, this is Cassandra. She's gonna get you set up and show you around. I'm gonna let her take over for now. Good luck." She offered a smile before she left out the doors she came through.

"Hi, Drake. It's nice to meet you. How old are you?"

Instead of meeting her eyes, he was anxiously looking around the room full of people, some of which were looking back at him. "Twenty-one," he answered quietly.

"Have you ever been to a place like this before?" She knew the answers to the questions she was asking because she had his file, but she was trying to open a dialogue.

"Once, when I was little."

"So you're probably familiar with some of our protocols. I'll go over them with you still to refresh your memory. First, do you have anything on you like jewelry, a watch, keys, belt? Anything like that?"

"Just a belt," he said, for they had already told him some of the things he should probably leave behind with Ricardo, like his phone.

"You're gonna have to remove that. It's a safety precaution. Patients aren't permitted to wear belts, as well as shoestrings. Also, either you'll have to remove the string from your jacket or we can keep it in the back until you leave."

Drake wasn't sure that he wanted to go without his jacket. It was his only form of security at the moment. Therefore, he grabbed one end of the string that was used to tighten the hood and started pulling it out. He passed that to her, then sat down in a nearby chair that she motioned towards and started removing his shoelaces. He was sitting at a table where two others were sitting — one guy and one girl — working on a complicated-looking puzzle. Both were around Drake's age and the girl was staring at him intensely, watching his every move.

"I'm Misty," she said suddenly in a voice so bubbly that it was almost annoying. She had on a hot pink top with tight blue jeans and her hair was in a messy bun atop her head.

"Drake," he said back, but he was much quieter than she was.

"This is Theo."

Theo looked up from the puzzle and gave him a small smile. He wore black clothing from head to toe and his hair was black to match. Drake liked him already because he immediately put his focus back on his puzzle and left him alone.

"How much longer until our smoke break?" the girl asked.

"Right after lunch," said Cassandra, "which will be in about five minutes."

"There're smoke breaks?" Drake asked.

"Yes," the nurse answered. "Five per day, but you can also smoke during recess. You wake up at six, get your vitals checked, shower, get ready for your day. The first smoke break is at seven and there's one every three hours."

This made him feel better. He slipped his shoes back on and immediately noticed how loose they were on his feet. When he lifted his foot, it almost slid right out of the shoe.

Cassandra noticed this. "We have Velcro straps in the back. I'll grab some for you when I take these back." She took the shoestrings from the boy.

Lastly, he stood and started unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops.

"Whoo!" Misty cheered. "Take it off!"

"Misty, that kind of speech isn't allowed here," the nurse reprimanded. She accepted the belt when it was handed to her, then said, "Follow me." After that, she told Drake to wait by the counter of the nurses' station until she returned. When she did, she carried two Velcro straps. "You just wrap these around your shoes."

He took them, then did just that. Maybe he was just stupid or something because his shoes still weren't tight. He'll just remove them when she showed him his room and go barefoot. Theo was barefoot and Drake noticed others were, too.

"So the cafeteria is down that hallway. Remember where you first came in through those double doors? Well, it's just like that, except you take a left instead of a right. The gym is down that way as well. You probably remember. I think it was the same eight years ago."

He did.

"Lunch is in a few minutes, but all our new patients are on unit restriction until they meet with their doctor first. I'll bring your food and we have activities you can do while everyone else is at recess. We will allow you to go out for smoke breaks, though, if you smoke. This is the nurses' station. When you need your hygiene products — comb, toothbrush, shampoo — you have to ask for them. You can't keep them in your room. You'll see some new faces behind here tomorrow. The nurses change shifts over night, but don't worry. We're all friendly," she said. "If you want to make a phone call, the phone is right there on the end of the counter, but you must ask first. The phone, like most everything else, is considered a privilege. We need to see good behavior if you want to use it. The same applies for smoke breaks, recess, gym time and eating with everyone in the cafeteria."

The place was actually rather small and there weren't many patients either. There were Theo and Misty, who probably stuck together due to their closeness in age, then there were eight others — six females and two males — who ranged in their late thirties to early sixties. They all sat in a room, which wasn't filled with much. There was the table the two youngest were at, then one more that was right in front of the television, which hung high up on the wall. To the right of the tv was a large glass window with a door — locked, no doubt — that led to the recess area. It was basically a large slab of concrete with a basketball goal surrounded by an obnoxiously tall, wooden fence. Cassandra talked about it as he observed.

Over on the right wall was a line of chairs. There was a woman sitting in the chair closest to the glass so that the sun could warm her. It was pretty chilly here, Drake noticed. Further down the line of chairs were two other women, both talking like best friends who had just ran into one another at the grocery store.

"This here is the bathroom," Cassandra said, pulling his attention in another direction. She was standing next to a door across from the glass window, near the nurses' station. "You're gonna have to get one of us to unlock it when you need to go." She then pointed to a room she had passed, which was in between the bathroom and the nurse area. "Someone's gonna come in tomorrow morning to get some blood work done on you and ask you a couple questions — just the standard stuff." She moved on to the next door. "This is our group therapy room. Everyone will be meeting here twice a day for discussions and activities. You still with me so far?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly. He had his hands hidden within the sleeves of his jacket and his arms were wrapped around his torso in a standoffish way.

"Great."

The large room closed into a long hallway that had doors on both sides the whole way down. She pointed to the first one on the right.

"This is another group room, but we don't use it much. When you meet with your doctor tomorrow, she'll probably talk to you in here or in the other group room. Which doctor were you assigned?"

He'd been here before, so he knew to show her his bracelet. It was like a hospital band, but it wasn't a regular hospital band; it was a _mental_ hospital band.

"Dr. Wallace. She's great," Cassandra said, but Drake was sure she said this about all the workers. "So she'll come in anywhere between eleven-thirty and one tomorrow. You're not her only patient, so just hang out in the common area with everyone until she calls you in. You'll have a lot of downtime here. That's a great time to spend reflecting."

Drake nodded absently because it looked like she wanted some sort of response to know that he was listening.

"The rest of these rooms are bedrooms," she said as she led him down the hall. "Men on the left, women on the right. You're not allowed to go in each other's rooms and they're only for sleeping in. From six to ten, you'll be in the common area and other places throughout the hospital. No one is allowed to stay in the rooms during the day. If you need something you've forgotten, someone will accompany you so that you can retrieve it. Lights out at ten." She grabbed a handle and pushed down on it to open the door to room 12. "This is your room."

The first thing he saw was a bathroom to his right, but instead of a door, there was only a curtain. There were two beds in the room, both on two different walls with a tall window in between. At the foot of one bed was a desk, which she explained was a place to sit for journaling and things such as that. It seemed pretty pointless considering that they weren't allowed in the room during the day time. At the foot of the other bed was the small walkway that led to the door. This bed was taken because it had obviously been slept in. Plus, there was a brown paper bag next to the wall that seemed to be packed with clothes.

"You'll be bunking with Marcus. He's the man who wore eyeglasses."

Drake had been hoping for Theo because he seemed to mind his own business, but maybe Marcus would be just the same.

"I think that about does it for the tour. Do you have any questions?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, well, if you think of something, feel free to ask me or any of the other nurses, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Great. Let's head on back into the common room."

As they went, the other patients were lined up and being led out the double doors to the cafeteria. Drake was relieved to have some time alone.

"You can hang out in here. I'll turn on the tv and grab you a dinner. Today, we have a choice between chicken tenders and lasagna. Which do you prefer?"

He wasn't hungry due to his nerves, but he went ahead and said, "Chicken tenders."

"We've got tea, lemonade and water."

He chose water.

"Okay, I'll grab that for you." She glanced at the nurses' station when she heard a _clack_ , which was another nurse noisily placing a small plastic cup on the counter as a reminder. "And while I'm doing that, we're gonna need a urine sample from you." She grabbed the cup and passed it to him. "I can grab a cup for you to fill up at the water fountain, or do you think you're ready now?"

He'd been in the empty waiting room for close to four hours, but it just now occurred to him how much he really had to go. She unlocked the bathroom for him, but it wasn't actually a bathroom at all. It was a hallway.

"Oh, I almost forgot. At the end of the hall, there are a couple solitary confinement rooms, which we use if we feel like a patient is a danger to him- or herself or others or if someone is misbehaving. You wanna go take a look?"

"No." He said it so fast that she almost didn't get to finish her sentence. Again, Drake's nerves got the best of him and he started shaking. He wanted to go home already. Being back here was... It was too much.

"This door right here is the restroom." Cassandra pointed to the closest one.

Drake thanked her, then went inside. There was no lock on the door, but he didn't have time for that anyway. He hurried over to the toilet and got there just in time to hurl into it. Great. He didn't have his toothbrush yet. Ricardo brought his things in, but Drake knew they had to check though it before passing him his clothes. Hopefully, they wouldn't take too long.

The young man finished puking, pissed in the cup, then washed his hands and headed back out into the common room. He gave his urine sample to a nurse at the front desk, then washed up again at the sink they had in the corner on the opposite side of the tv as the glass window. Cassandra came in with his lunch around this time.

"Thanks." He took a seat at the table.

"What channel do you wanna watch?"

"Um..." He shrugged politely.

She put it on some race car thing that he really couldn't care less about, but he wasn't in the mood to watch tv anyway, so he didn't protest. Although his stomach was filled with butterflies, he knew that it had been a while since he'd eaten, so he picked up a chicken tender. Maybe this would settle his stomach.

Thirty minutes passed and he had only made it about halfway through his lunch, but he couldn't force himself to eat anymore or else he would get sick. He stood and tossed the Styrofoam tray into the trash, which a nurse took note of. Soon after that, the other patients returned from the cafeteria early. He wasn't really in the mood to converse at the moment, so he sat down in a chair away from everyone else. He wondered if one of the nurses was writing this down. Would isolating himself from the group and being antisocial keep him here longer?

Pretty soon, it was time for a smoke break. Misty approached the nurses' station to get her pack of cigarettes, along with two of the older women and the men as well, excluding Theo. Next, they lined up at the glass door near Drake.

"Hey, new guy," Misty kicked his foot with her shoeless one. "Want one?" She held up her pack of Newport menthols.

He went outside with her. Cassandra held the lighter and lit everyone's cigarettes. Drake followed Misty over to the brick wall of the building.

"Thank you," he said. "When they let me call my friend, I'll ask him to drop my cigarettes off and give you one back."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "You don't mind menthol, do you?"

He squatted down and rested his back against the wall. "No, I smoke menthols."

"So how'd you do it?" she asked suddenly.

"Um...what?" he replied with genuine confusion.

"How'd you try to kill yourself? That _is_ what you're here for, right?" Misty pried. "I mean, it's clearly not the first time. I saw the scars on your wrists when you were tying your shoes. Nice tattoos, by the way."

He subconsciously unrolled his sleeves so that they'd cover his arms fully.

"I tossed my sister's flat iron into the bath. Turns out the stupid thing didn't work. She walked in on me and freaked, so here I am."

"Shit."

"Yeah, so what about you?"

He didn't want to talk about it, but he felt like he couldn't leave her question unanswered because she gave him a cigarette. "Pills," he said vaguely.

"Ha! I knew it! Ernest!" she called and one of the older men turned her way. "You owe me something from the vending machine!" Back in her normal volume, she told Drake, "He guessed that you were gonna shoot yourself, but chickened out."

Drake didn't know what to say to that and he felt uncomfortable having his business yelled out for everyone to hear.

"Where'd you do it?"

He spoke quietly. "Truck stop bathroom."

"That's a new one."

He finally had the guts to say, "I don't really like to talk about it."

"Oh, yeah, no, totally. I get you, but you better get used to talking about it in group if you wanna get out of here. Otherwise, you'll be like Theo. He's almost been here for three weeks."

 _Three weeks?!_ "Fuck," Drake whispered on an exhale of smoke.

"They're probably gonna transfer him to a long-term hospital." Just like that, she was onto a new topic. "You're really hot."

"Um...thank you."

"Why would you possibly wanna kill yourself?"

Drake took a longer drag on the cigarette to give him time to think of a response. She was pretty hot herself, so he didn't understand her reasoning.

"Not that attractive people don't have problems, but, I mean...Jesus. It must be something really fucked up is all I'm saying."

"Why did you?" he asked, but he didn't really care. He just wanted her to stop giving him the first degree and he thought reciprocating the question would shut her up.

Her voice took on a more chill and somber tone, but she didn't quite sound sad. "I watched my little brother drown when I was nine.

He now regretted asking and genuinely felt guilty for getting so annoyed by her. "Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've-"

"No, it's okay. I've been learning how to open up about it and I think it's really helped...somewhat." She paused. "Eh, it's a slow process. Anyway, your turn."

Why did he tried to kill himself? There were so many reasons. It didn't just feel like one thing. It was everything combined. It wasn't just Dahlia's infidelity; it wasn't just his drug addiction and guilt; it wasn't just a lifetime dealing with abuse. It was all of that put together, which overwhelmed him and made each thing feel a thousand times worse. He wasn't about to spill all of that, though.

He settled with, "I was tired of being sad."

"I get that."

* * *

After lunch was recess, but today they were going to the gymnasium instead of outside, so when the smoke break was over, everyone, with the exception of Drake, headed to the gym. During this time, the lone patient sat in one of the chairs against the wall. He had his heels in the chair and hid his head in his knees because he was sleepy. During this time, he was called up to the nurses' station and given a brown paper sack with his clothes. They told him they kept his hygiene products in a room and he could ask for them any time and his ears perked up when they also mentioned needing permission to get his cigarettes. Fucking Ricardo was the best. He always thinks of everything.

He was allowed to take his clothes to his room, then he went back to his chair in the corner and tried to nap. It wasn't long before the group was back. If today would've been a visitation day, family members would be piling into the room around this time, but that was tomorrow. Instead, this time was for activities. A male nurse, whose name tag read Samuel, went over to the cabinet at the opposite end of the line of chairs Drake was at and told the patients that they could pick out some board games. Misty jumped up first — no surprise there — and chose The Game Of Life. The two older men stuck to their cards and the women who had been talking like best friends earlier joined them. Everyone else played the board game except Drake, who remained in his chair until Samuel approached him.

"Why don't you join the others?" he said. "Mingle a little bit. Get to know some of your fellow patients."

The young man lifted his head. "No, thanks. I'm fine over here."

Samuel sat down in the chair next to him. "I get it. It's a new place and new people and it's a little scary. You came here to learn how to heal. To do that, you're gonna have to step out of your comfort zone a little bit." He went on when Drake said nothing. "You and Misty seemed to hit it off pretty well. Why don't you ask if you can join her game?"

Drake realized that this wasn't a suggestion, so he sighed and stood, then crossed the room. He approached the table cautiously and hid his hands inside of his sleeves as an attempt to shrink into his jacket out of nervous habit when the entire table turned to look at him. "Um, is it okay if I sit here?" he asked quietly.

"Sure!" Misty pulled out the chair for him. "This one's only for four players and Hero's gonna be the banker, but you can watch."

"Okay." He shrugged. He was honestly kind of glad that he didn't have to play.

As the game started, he followed along to please the nurses who were watching him, but his sleepiness overcame him and he rested his head on the palm of his hand. He hadn't realized that he'd dozed off until he heard his name.

"Drake," Theo, who was sitting across from him and also not playing, said for the third time, then he apologized for waking him. "Could you hand me that?" He pointed.

Drake looked and saw a light blue puzzle piece sticking out from underneath his elbow. "Shit, sorry." He passed it to him.

"Long day?"

"Yeah."

"It takes a minute to acclimate to their schedule. I like taking naps myself." He pointed to another piece that was on Drake's side of the table and the boy handed it to him.

The newbie squinted his eyes in thought. "Do I...I feel like...do I know you from somewhere?"

"High school."

"Oh, did we have a class together?"

"My locker was next to yours." He could see that the boy still didn't recognize him. "In ninth grade, you and your friends made up this rumor that my mom was a prostitute."

"Shit." Drake didn't know what to say. Teenagers are fucking evil. "I was such an asshole. I'm so sorry."

Theo just shrugged it off, but Drake couldn't let it go. Theo had been a loner and a loser, something Drake was now, so he felt empathy and guilt. The other boy saw this and spoke up.

"Really, don't even worry about it. It's just high school drama." Then he added, "Also, I was the one junior year who told everyone you were in jail for shooting up dope at the pep rally."

Drake actually remembered this rumor. He'd been absent from school for about a week due to a cruel punishment consisting of a good lashing and the basement. When he returned, everyone asked him about jail and they all believed it no matter what he said. This was the first of many embarrassing drug rumors that spread around school over the span of what was left of his eleventh and twelfth grade years. He eventually quit denying them junior year because everyone knew he was using and in senior year, he came back as a completely different person.

"That was you?"

Theo smiled proudly and Drake couldn't help but laugh at their childishness. "I didn't know it was gonna take off like that, though. Man, that one really grew some wings — probably because you were so popular. I mean, and you weren't helping anything either by taking pills and huffing inhalants every time you stopped at your locker."

"Yeah, I honestly have no idea how I didn't get caught." Sometimes, he wished he would've.

"Oh, and by the way, my mom's a stripper — not a prostitute."

Drake actually hadn't known this, but the coincidence made him chuckle. "Sorry, I'll be sure to get my facts straight next time."

"I'd appreciate that very much."

The new patient relaxed in his seat a bit and he didn't feel so nervous and antisocial anymore. "So did you ever go to college?"

"You ever get that record deal?" he retorted, but not in a rude way, as he fit another piece into the puzzle. "Real life sucks. They don't prepare you for that shit in high school. Can you pass me that? Thanks. No, but I did go, though — a couple times actually — but I just didn't have the motivation, I guess, to finish. I kept dropping out until I lost my financial aid. Life hits hard, you know? Then you wake up one day and realize you don't even know what it's all for."

It was a shame that Theo hadn't finished college. Besides Josh and Mindy, he had probably been the smartest person that Drake had known. Still, the young man could totally understand where he was coming from although he hadn't had nearly as much potential as Theo.

Drake changed the subject to something lighter. "How long have you been working on this puzzle?"

"About two and a half weeks."

"Shit," he said. "What's it supposed to be?"

"I don't know. I don't look at the box. I like it to be a surprise."

Drake studied it for a moment. The outer pieces all connected together to make a rectangle and there were some pieces put together on the inside. He saw some green and gray and flashes of color.

"I think it's a cat next to a Christmas tree."

"No way. It's definitely a toucan in the jungle."

"What about that yarn right there?"

"Don't be daft. That's clearly the worm he's about to eat."

"Do toucan's eat worms?"

"This one does."

Drake looked at the incomplete puzzle again and tried to see the image that Theo was seeing, but he couldn't. "All I'm saying is that you're gonna be real surprised when that worm turns into a ball of yarn."

* * *

"Everyone here?" Nurse Renee said.

Everyone was in the group room, surrounding the circular table. Theo was on Drake's right and the lady who had been trying to get warm earlier was on his left. He had his heels in his chair so that his knees were to his chest and he wrapped his arms around them and kept his head low.

"Okay, let's get started. I see two new faces here." She turned to one of the women, who had gotten here the night before Drake apparently. "Would you like to go ahead and introduce yourself?"

"My name is Lisa."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Renee."

Lisa was probably in her late forties. She had tan skin and wrinkles and short brown hair. Drake hadn't really noticed her talk a lot before, but he didn't think she was shy.

"You wanna tell us why you're here?" Renee asked.

"I guess I just kind of had a nervous breakdown. So much was happening in my life that I became overwhelmed. I finally just snapped." She continued because everyone stayed quiet. "My husband and I have been going through a tough time. Our daughter..." Her eyes watered over and she sniffled.

Renee picked up the box of tissues she had next to her and handed them to Misty. "Will you pass these down, please?"

"Thank you." Lisa wiped her eyes and sniffled again. "Our daughter passed away a couple months ago from an overdose. Now we're just left with our son and he overdosed on meth a few days ago, too. He survived, thank God." Sniffle. "We got him into a rehab. He wasn't even there for twenty-four hours before he left. Now I have no idea where he is or if..." Her voice squeaked when she said, "or if he's still alive." She wept some more. "It's just been really hard and I know it's hard on him, too. He lost a sister. I just don't understand why he didn't learn from her mistake — why he would risk doing that to us again." She was crying too much to speak anymore.

"Anyone have any words of advice or comfort for Lisa?" Renee asked, but no one spoke up. "What about you? What's your name?"

Drake could feel his heart beating fast. He hated being put on the spot and he wasn't like Lisa. He was terrified of opening up in front of all these people. Lisa had been hurt by her addicted children just like Audrey had been hurt by her addicted son. He didn't think anything he could say would make her feel any better.

"Drake," he responded quietly.

"Drake, would you like to tell us why you're here?"

"Not really."

"You don't have to feel embarrassed or ashamed. This is a safe environment. No one here will judge you. Right?"

She got a few affirming replies. He still didn't want to tell these strangers about his personal life, but then he caught Misty's gaze and remembered what she had said to him outside about participating. He wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible, so he had to give them something.

"I tried to kill myself." Those words sounded uncomfortable leaving his lips.

"What led you to do that?"

"I... My fiancée...my _ex_ fiancée — she was...manipulating me."

"In what way?"

"She turned me against my best friends and she isolated me from the world. It was like I was her prisoner, but I didn't know it at the time. She yelled at me and put me down and hit me a lot." He felt embarrassed by how weak he sounded, so he looked down at his lap. "I never stood up to her because...I love her. I met her and it was like she was the piece that had been missing from me for so long. I made a lot of mistakes in our relationship, so I always felt like I owed her — like I was always trying to buy her love. She started going out without me a lot and it made me feel insecure, then I started getting these mean texts from my friend — or I thought it was my friend. It was really her. She created an entire Facebook account posing as my friend and would send me...the most vicious, horrible things. Everyday, multiple times a day. She'd use it to make me do things."

Renee nodded as if she understood. "What kinds of things?"

"Like, one time, she messaged from the fake account pretending to be my friend and started ridiculing me about this time me and my friend slept together — like, saying I performed poorly and stuff. It made me feel like I had something to prove, like, to myself, so when we had sex that night, I let her do a lot of things to me that I wasn't comfortable with and I did a lot of things that I'm ashamed of. She used that profile to control me. Just by sending a simple message, she could change my mood, she could change my emotions, she could change my behavior." Saying these words out loud made them actually set in for the first time.

"What happened the day you tried to hurt yourself?"

"I found out that she had been cheating on me the entire time we were together. I left, but I didn't really have anywhere to go. I didn't wanna end up back on the streets, so I swallowed my pride and apologized for everything and begged her take me back. She had me convinced that her infidelity was my fault and I guess it kinda was. She said a lot of hurtful things and she told me that I should kill myself. I had just gotten a text from the fake account also suggesting that I kill myself. Both my fiancée and my best friend (or so I thought) hated my guts and they were all I had left. They were what kept me off the streets. I don't really remember that day well. My emotions were all over the place, but I woke up in a hospital the next day and my friends have been by my side ever since. It's hard and I miss her, but I've been doing okay and I've had a lot of support over the past couple months. I realized that there are people who care about me and I wanna get better — not just for myself, but for them. I don't want them to have to keep worrying about me." He surprised himself by talking so much.

Nurse Renee nodded and gave a warm smile. She waited for a short moment in case he wanted to add more, but when he didn't, she said, "That's really good that you've got a good support system around you. Thank you for sharing, Drake."

"You said-" Lisa spoke up suddenly. "-you were on the streets." She was still weeping, but not as hard. "You were using drugs?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you don't care how your mother feels?"

Drake knew that she didn't mean this in a rude way at all. She was just curious because she was desperate to understand her own addicted son, so when Renee kindly tried to cease this line of conversation and steer their discussion in another direction, Drake spoke up, but still softly.

"No, it's okay," he said to Renee, then he met the hurting mother's eyes. "I haven't spoken to my mom in three years, but everyday I was there, I could see the toll my addiction was taking on her and the rest of my family. I loved them and I'll always love them, so that's why I left. It's not that I loved drugs more. I just couldn't stop using," he said. "Everyday, I thought about my mom. I always hoped she knew that I loved her...and that I was sorry. I think..." He approached it cautiously because he wasn't sure if he had the right to say these words or not. "I don't know your son, but I think that maybe he's having trouble quitting or maybe he doesn't feel ready to quit, so he doesn't want you to see him mess up. I think he feels really guilty for letting you down. He knows you're mad and he knows you're sad and he knows he hurt you. I think he would just want you to understand that he's sorry."

Lisa was crying again, but she nodded her appreciation for being so open and honest. "Thank you," she said. "Are you clean now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"So do you think I should let him clean up whenever he gets ready or should I keep trying with the rehab?"

"Um..." This question was a lot tougher. "I think it's different for everyone. I refused to go to rehab and I even left home when they gave me an ultimatum of either that or getting kicked out. Being on my own wasn't much better. Things got really bad and I, um..." He glanced around the room nervously and felt comforted that, like Renee promised, no one was looking at him with judgment. "I was living with this man who kept me supplied. I stayed so high all the time that I couldn't see straight. I couldn't walk to the bathroom by myself. I probably would've died had he not force-fed me everyday. I don't know how long I was there. I hardly even remember anything that happened, but somehow, my friend found me and he literally kidnapped me. He didn't make me go to rehab, but he put bars on my window and locked me in my bedroom at night and wouldn't even let me go to the bathroom by myself. It sounds extreme, but I don't think I would've cleaned up had he not done that. Cleaning up's the easy part, though. It's the part that comes after that's really hard, so there has to be a lot of support and trust and honesty and compromise on both sides." Then he added, "But again, that's just what worked for me. Maybe rehab will work for him."

"Thank you for telling me your story," she said.

"Does anyone want to add anything?" Renee asked.

An older gentleman lifted his hand slightly. He introduced himself to Drake and Lisa by telling them that his name was Ernest. "I've been in and out of rehabs my whole life almost. I think I was at my ninth rehab when something finally clicked and I've been clean ever since. Haven't had a single relapse in twenty years, so I just wanted to be a testimony that rehab _can_ work. You're son's just gonna have to work _with_ it. He's gonna have to want it himself and it could take a couple rehabs and relapses before he realizes that."

Lisa nodded her head in agreement.

"Would anyone else like to share something before we start our topic of discussion?"

No one spoke up, so she began passing out papers that looked like they were for first graders due to the cartoon that was printed on it next to a list of coping skills. They discussed each one for about twenty-five minutes, but Drake hung back from the conversation now because he was no longer forced to talk. Another paper was passed out after the discussion and it was a BINGO board, but with different coping mechanisms rather than numbers. She gave everyone some Skittles to put over the ones that she called out and after each one, she would choose someone and ask how they have or should have applied a specific coping skill to a situation in their life. Marcus, Drake's roommate, won, which meant that he got to pick tomorrow night's movie. Misty had won yesterday, so tonight was _Pretty In Pink_.

Everyone piled into the common room for the movie. Renee grabbed the disc from behind the counter and put it into the DVD player. Two of the patients were called up to the nurses' station to take some pills and Cassandra passed out a pack of Oreo cookies and carton of milk to everyone.

"Thank you," Drake said. He set it on his lap and continued eating the Skittles he hadn't finished.

"Yo." Theo pulled his chair up next to his and plopped down in it. He leaned back so that the two front legs came off the floor.

"S'up?"

Neither one had anything to say to the other, but they took comfort in one another's company. They seemed to have made a connection and they didn't even have to speak half the time.

"Bruh, can I put on my fucking pj's because I hate wearing pants?"

Theo looked at him when he jumped up suddenly and swallowed the rest of his Skittles, then went over to the nurses' station. Seconds later, he disappeared down the hall and returned wearing a pair of yellow and black plaid pajama pants. He picked up his Oreo's and milk before sitting back down.

"Surprised you came back," Theo said. "You could've totally hung yourself with those pants."

"I was really looking forward to watching _Pretty In Pink_. Next time probably," he joked back.

* * *

They had just enough time to squeeze one last smoke break in before the ten p.m. bedtime. Drake was grateful that Ricardo had brought his cigarettes because now he wasn't forced to talk to Misty. He migrated away from the group after his cigarette was lit and rested by the brick wall, but he wasn't left alone for too long.

"Feeling okay?" Renee asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I just wanted to tell you that you did really great in group today," she complimented. "You should be really proud of yourself."

"Thank you."

She gave him a warm smile before going back over to the group. After everyone finished smoking, they all headed inside and gradually began moving towards the bedrooms. Drake went over to the nurses' station and asked for his toothbrush and toothpaste. He went down the hall to his room and brushed his teeth, then returned the items and headed off to bed. This time when he got to his room, his bunk-mate was there.

"Hi," he said shyly when the man looked at him. "Marcus, right?"

It was uncanny how much this guy looked like Coach Tad. Drake swore they could've been brothers or father and son probably. He hadn't been too excited upon learning that he would have to share a room, but he wouldn't have minded nearly as much if he was bunking with Theo. Now he was sleeping next to a stranger, but not just any stranger. He was sleeping next to an older male stranger.

"Right. And you're Drake."

He held out his hand suddenly and Drake actually flinched. He hoped that the man hadn't seen this. He hesitated momentarily. He was sensitive when it came to being touched, especially being touched by strangers and even more especially by adult male strangers. He felt guilty about the way that he was acting, though. Marcus was probably a really great guy and all. It was just Drake's shit. Still, he made himself shake the man's hand, but he kept his gaze low. He swore he could feel Marcus's eyes all over his body, lingering on places they shouldn't be lingering. They weren't, but he couldn't confirm that for himself because he was too scared to check.

"Yeah," the boy replied, then he pulled his hand away. "Well, goodnight."

Drake laid down on his mattress and pulled the white blanket up to his chin. It was thin like at the regular hospital, only this time, he didn't have any HotHands. He was still wearing his jacket, though, and it was zipped up all the way. He turned over and faced the wall, scooting as close to it as possible. The closer he was to the wall, the further he was from Marcus.

The young man flinched again, this time when his roommate turned the light out. Drake let go of his breath shakily. He brought his legs up to his chest to make himself as small as possible — like if Marcus tried to grab him, maybe he could slip right out of his hands.

The stranger actually fell asleep pretty quickly. Drake, however, was still awake when a male nurse came by with a flashlight. This terrified Drake to the point where he even backed himself into the corner, but the man quietly explained that he just had to check on the patients every now and then and he told him that his chair was at the end of the hall if he needed anything. The boy pretended to be asleep the next several times he came by, but he remained awake for many hours. The bed was incredibly uncomfortable. It was a thin spring mattress atop a box board and his pillow was almost as thin as paper. His blanket was even thinner. In addition to this, his heart jumped out of his throat every time he heard the bed next to him creak. Even when he would begin to doze, his eyes would shoot wide open if he heard even the faintest noise and he'd hold his breath. Drake would lay there, frozen, just listening for footsteps or any sign that Marcus was moving closer. He feared that the man would slip into bed next to him and pull the blanket over their heads. He could already feel him planting kisses on the back of his neck. He could feel Marcus push his own body against Drake's back. He could feel a hand touching his bicep, sliding down to his ribs, his waist, his hips, his thighs, his crotch-

Drake quickly got out of bed and went into the bathroom. He cursed the fact that there was no door and had to settle for closing the curtain, then he hurried over to the toilet and barfed. None of these things were quiet, so it was a wonder that Marcus remained asleep. When he was finished, he flushed the toilet and went over to the sink. The boy scooped water into his cupped hands and rinsed out his mouth, then he splashed water on his face and rested there, trying to control his breathing. He just wanted to go home. He felt so scared and he knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help it.

Once he got a grip on himself, he headed back out to his bed, but when he pulled back the curtain, he saw the male nurse standing outside his bedroom door. This made him jump.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. You just startled me."

"No, I mean..." He pointed towards the bathroom. Apparently, he'd heard retching.

Drake blamed it on eating too much for dinner, then he got back to bed. Throwing up had actually eased his nerves, but only slightly. At least he was able to fall asleep.

* * *

His dreams had been back-to-back nightmares that he couldn't wake up from. Each time felt real and as if, finally, he had snapped himself out of it, but then the terror would start up again. Every last one of them contained Martin, which was probably due to how afraid he had been to go to sleep in a new place filled with strange men. Throughout the night, he suffered visions of the basement, beatings, rapes and, currently, strangulation. It was so hard to breathe and he couldn't move due to sleep paralysis. All he could do was stare up at the sick smirk on his father's face and hope that he was getting his pleads across with his tear-filled eyes.

"Sir?" He was a male nurse, but not the same one as last night because they had a shift change. His name was Paul and he had rolled in a cart to check the roommates' vitals, which meant that it was six a.m. "Sir, are you okay?"

Strange noises left Drake's throat and he was drenched with sweat. He had a vein popping out of the side of his neck and his fingers were outstretched as far as they would go. Blue veins were also prominently visible — even in the dimly lit room — all over his arms as he strained to breathe or move or wake himself or anything.

"Jesus, he looks like he's fucking possessed," Marcus said.

Paul was fairly new. This was only his second week here and he looked to be close to Drake's age, so he didn't know how to handle the situation exactly. "Sir?" he tried again, then he gently shook his shoulder.

This immediately did something to Drake's body and he was able to move. His eyes shot open and he jerked up into a sitting position. Although he had woken up physically, his mind was still back at his father's and that's exactly who he saw standing over him and reaching for him like he had just let up from strangling him. The young man screamed with fear and it was like he was no longer in control as he wound his fist back and punched the orderly. Marcus' eyes went wide and Drake got in a couple more shots before his roommate jumped up, pulled him away from the shell-shocked nurse and held him back.

"NO! LET GO!" the young man screeched at the top of his lungs. "LET ME GO! LET GO!" In his hallucinatory state, he mistook Marcus for Coach Tad and his panic grew.

"Calm down!" Marcus was struggling to hold him.

Paul hurried out of the room to get some help and pretty soon, Drake was surrounded. He was being grabbed all over and dragged out of the room.

"STOP! GET OFF!"

All the patients were awake now and standing outside their doors watching the commotion.

Theo expressed surprise, then sympathy. He reached out to offer comfort. "Drake-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!" He continued yelling this as he tried to tug himself free. It was gradually becoming more and more apparent where he actually was, but that didn't make him any less frantic because he knew where they were taking him when a door was opened.

Solitary confinement.

NOOO! Ggggggg!" He growled and screamed from deep within his throat and his teeth were clenched so hard that his jaw hurt. He firmly planted his heels against the floor, but he couldn't get any traction.

They pulled him down the hallway. The closer he got to the dreaded room, the more hysterical he became. He did actually manage to get a hand free. He punched a second nurse, then shoved another. He tried running the way he had come, but he was being snatched in all different directions until finally, somehow, he was on the floor. Drake could then feel them forcing something on him and immediately knew that it was a straitjacket.

He. Fucking. Lost it.

The patient screeched some more and yelled obscenities which could be heard throughout the entire adult ward. There were many of the orderlies and only one of him, so no matter how hard he fought, they had control. His arms were all the way in the sleeves now, which were sewn shut at the ends, trapping his hands. There was a strap, like a single belt loop, right in the front of his jacket and they forced his arms through it so that they crossed over his chest. He called out for help, but no one came to his aid. He was turned over onto his stomach and both ends of the jacket were pulled together tightly by a nurse while another buckled the three back straps, locking him in. Next, the straps hanging off the ends of both sleeves were buckled behind his back. So many fucking straps.

"PLEASE! PLEASE!" He was bawling his eyes out at this point. "PLEASE!"

Someone reached for two more straps that were on either side of his belly button and they pulled the ends in between his thighs and secured them on his back as well. Once he was all set, they lifted him up and led him towards the solitary confinement room.

"Please," he choked. "I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go!"

They got him in the room, then quickly scurried out and closed the door behind them.

* * *

"Mmm," Ricardo groaned as his ringing cell phone woke him from his sleep. He hesitantly rolled onto his side and reached for the phone, then squinted when its bright light flashed him. The man tried to focus on who was calling, but his vision was blurry due to his tiredness. He rubbed his eyes, then tried again. It wasn't a number that he recognized and he almost ignored it, but there was part of him that thought it could be Drake calling even though he doubted it was the allotted time for phone calls at the hospital. He swiped to answer, then put the mobile to his ears. "Mmhello?" His voice came out strained.

"Ricky?!"

Drake was so frantic that the man immediately was on high alert. He sat up with confusion as the boy vocally sobbed.

"What's wrong?"

"I need you to come get me! Can you come get me?!"

"What's wrong?" he repeated.

Drake only responded with, "Please come get me!"

"Okay, I'm coming." He tossed the comforter to the side and stood, then went over to his closet quickly and grabbed some jeans. "I'm coming, okay? Can you talk to me?"

"Just come get me," he begged, but not as frantically now.

"Okay. Are you still at the hospital?"

"Yes." Sniffle. Sob.

"Okay, just try to calm down. I'm on my way." He had the phone on speaker as he changed his pants right there in the middle of his room. Next, he grabbed his keys and wallet off of his dresser and went downstairs. "Is there someone there I can talk to? Like a doctor or a nurse?"

He heard a, "He wants to talk to you," then there was another voice, this one female.

"Hello, this is Angela at Wood Lake Behavioral Health."

"Hi, um..." _Where do I start?_ "What's going on?"

"Drake woke up this morning and immediately became physical and aggressive with one of our male nurses, so we put him in solitary confinement to calm him. He kept requesting to call you. I'm sorry it's so early."

"No, it's okay." He was slipping on his tennis shoes now.

Drake's faint, pathetic voice was in the background. "I can't move my arms," he cried.

"I'm on my way up there now," Ricardo said. "Is it okay if I come up there and talk to him?"

"I'm gonna have to ask a higher-up for the authorization to allow visitation. I'll let you speak to Drake while I check on this for you."

"Thank you."

Drake had to hold the phone between his shoulder and his ear since his hands were secured. "I wanna come home," he sobbed.

"I know. Can you tell me what happened?"

The young man tried his best, but he was hyperventilating and bawling so hard that Ricardo could only make out a couple words: ...dad... choke... breathe... Tad... touch... hit... grab... touch... scared... closet... touch... touch... As he did this, Ricardo pulled his jacket on, then he unlocked the front door and stepped outside.

"Okay," he said. His voice was calm although he was practically running to his car. "It's okay. I'm getting in the car now. It'll take me twenty minutes. Can you do some breathing with me?"

"No," he choked.

"Come on, Drake. Do it with me. Just take a breath in through your nose..." He heard his friend do as he said. "...and let it out. Let's just keep doing that, okay?"

"...can't...breathe..."

"I know. Just stick with me, okay?"

"...lung...HUUUH...lung...HUUUUUUH...collapsed..."

"Your lung didn't collapse. You're just having a panic attack. It sucks, I know, but I always help you through these, don't I? You always get through these."

"Shit! HUUUH! ...dropped — HUUUH! ...fucking phone..."

"Drake?" He asked calmly although he felt anything but calm. He could hear the boy's panic attack getting even worse. "Drake? Can you hear me?" He waited. "Drake, can you hear me?" Still no response. "Shit!" He cranked his car, then backed out of the driveway and started down the street.

On the other end, Ricardo could just hear someone calmly ask Drake to quit kicking, but the boy only got worse. He sounded like a snarling dog, but with absolute fear in his voice. Although he seemed somewhat aware of his surroundings, Ricky was pretty sure that he was having vivid, post-traumatic flashbacks and he felt completely at a loss. All he could do was helplessly listen to his best friend suffer.

"NO, DON'T!" he growled.

"This will help you feel better," someone assured.

There were more protests on Drake's end and then sudden silence. Ricardo assumed that he was given a shot of some kind. He'd seen this done in movies before.

Moments later, Angela was back on the phone. "Sir, are you still there?"

"Yes, is he okay?"

"He's okay. You've been approved for an unscheduled visitation. What time do you think you can get here?"

"I'm on my way now, so about fifteen minutes. Did you give him something?"

She confirmed his suspicions about Drake being given a shot. When he voiced concern about the boy being prone to addiction, she assured him that what they had given him was nothing like that. They talked briefly before hanging up, then he let go of his breath. He was actually one big ball of nerves himself and he was starting to regret pressuring his friend to commit himself.

"Hey, Siri." He waited until he heard a double-click. "Text Julio." He wanted to let his brother know where he was in case his frantic movements had woken him up. Plus, he wasn't sure when he would be back. "Hey, I'm on my way to the mental hospital. Drake was having a panic attack this morning and they said I could visit him. They're gonna take my phone at the front desk, so I'll call you when I get out. I'm not sure how long they'll let me stay." Quickly, he thought to add, "Don't freak out, though. I spoke to him on the phone and he's gonna be okay."

"Ready to send it?"

"Send."

"...Done."

* * *

"How is he?" the man asked.

Angela updated him as she led him towards the adult ward. "He's better. We had to give him something to calm him, but we knew that you were coming so we didn't give him too much. Still, he might seem a little groggy or confused."

As they entered, Ricardo saw a few people hanging out in the common room waiting for their smoke break. They eyed him with curiosity and intrigue. Nurse Angela unlocked the hallway door, then the door to the solitary confinement room.

"He asked for the lights to be out," Angela explained quickly, for she didn't want him to think they were trying to be cruel to him on purpose.

The hallway light lit up the room slightly to show blue padding all over every inch of the walls, floor and even ceiling. The room was small, but like a kid's bedroom kind of small. When Drake was younger and in the teens' ward, the room was tiny, like a bathroom big enough to only fit the essentials: a tub, toilet and sink. Back then, there had been only a little padded mat to lay down on, but if he'd wanted, he could've bashed his own head in on the unprotected floor and walls. Also, solitary back then had been in the basement of the hospital. Despite things changing for the better, he still hated being in this room.

"Jesus..." Ricardo whispered when he turned his head to the left and saw his friend shrinking himself into a corner.

Drake had his knees to his chest and his face hiding in the darkness between them. he was wearing a straitjacket and Ricardo now understood why the boy had freaked out so much. When Drake heard the man enter the room, he lifted his head. He was still weeping and he looked terrified despite the shot he had received.

Ricardo made his way over to his friend and the quickness of his steps made the boy flinch. He got down in front of him and started to pull him into a comforting embrace, but Drake turned his head away.

"I don't wanna be touched," he said quietly.

"Okay." The man retreated, but he still saw the patient squish himself further into a corner. He knew how Drake was about small places like this and he knew he wanted space, even from his best friend. Ricardo backed away until he came to the opposite wall, then he slid onto his bottom. "How are you?" he said gently.

"I wanna go home."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I got confused." Drake's voice was even quieter. "I didn't mean to hit anyone." His bottom lip quivered and he wasn't strong enough to hold back his sob. "I can't move my arms."

"Try not to think about that." He tried to lead the discussion in another direction to pull Drake's focus away from his immobility. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Just thinking about it brought more tears to his eyes. He knew that he would completely lose it if he opened his mouth, so he just nodded.

"I'm sorry." Cautiously, he asked, "Was it about your dad?"

Another nod. Drake never met his eyes.

Both himself and Julio had woken Drake from many nightmares that they had heard him suffering through from all the way in their bedrooms down the hall. They both knew how aggressive and violent he could get before he was snapped back into reality.

"They put me in a room with a man," Drake said.

"Did anything happen?"

He was quiet for a moment. His eyes were full of tears and he stared at the wall next to him because he was too ashamed to see what Ricardo thought of him being in a straitjacket. If it proved one thing, it's that he _is_ , in fact, crazy. He lowered his head and shook it to answer his friend's question.

The man could tell that he had gone somewhere else for that few seconds it took to give him an answer, which planted doubt in his head. "Are you sure?"

Nod.

"You know you could tell me."

Drake's nostrils flared as more silent tears fell. "I just wanna go home."

"You want me to get a nurse so you can talk to them?"

When the boy nodded, Ricardo stood and went over to the small window on the wall behind him. On the other side of this was the nurses' station and they would occasionally check in on a patient to make sure he or she was alright. Ricky knocked on it, which attracted Angela's attention. She held up her finger to let him know she was on her way, then she went around the counter, through the common area, down the hall and into the room.

"Yes?"

"I wanna go home," Drake said. "I wanna sign myself out."

There was a pause as she thought about how to reply. "Unfortunately, it's not that easy. When you commit yourself, you can't just sign yourself out. You have to write a three-day letter."

"A three-day letter?" Ricardo took over because he could see that his friend was getting upset.

"Yes, you write a letter saying that you wanna leave. Basically, three things can happen at that point. Your request may be granted, but usually, especially after incidences like this one, the case is taken to court and they'll decide whether to let you leave or make you an involuntary patient. Since you committed yourself, Drake, you are currently a voluntary patient."

The boy started sobbing again.

"What's the third outcome?" Ricardo asked.

"Well, once the letter is written, the hospital has three days to turn it in, so if the court route is taken, the hospital may decide to turn the letter in at the last minute to ensure that you stay for at least three more days, _or_ they may not turn it in at all and let you go after three days. Still, that's three days you'll be here."

Drake felt even more trapped than he already had if that was even possible.

Ricardo looked at him with sympathy. "We can try the three-day letter if you want. I mean, there is a possibility that they might accept it immediately, right?" he asked Angela.

"That is correct. It is possible."

"Do you wanna do that? Drake?"

"They're never gonna let me out of here."

"You won't know unless you try."

"I'm in a fucking straitjacket, Ricky!" he exploded. "In a padded cell and everything! They think I'm crazy!"

"No one thinks you're crazy," Angela assured kindly. "The jacket will be removed when we feel like you're no longer a danger to yourself or others."

"You don't understand. I can't be here." He was becoming agitated, upset and temperamental.

"Could we get a little more time?" Ricardo asked politely. He knew that when Drake got like this, he was bound to say anything and he didn't want him to say something rude to the nurse.

"Sure." She left them again and closed the door behind her.

"Okay, what's up, Drake?"

"I want. To go," he said desperately through clenched teeth.

"You came in here wanting to leave. You had the mindset that this would all go horribly before you even stepped through the front doors. You've been avoiding places like this for years, just like you refused to go to rehab. Is it because you feel locked in? Is it because of what your dad did?"

"No. You don't understand."

"Then help me understand," he begged.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't."

"Tell me why," Ricardo pleaded.

"Because I can't!"

" _Why_ not?"

"Because I'm fucking ashamed! Okay?" For the first time during their visit, he met his eyes. Although there was still fear in them, what showed most was his anger.

"Ashamed of what?" It wasn't much, but it was something. He waited for the boy to continue, but he didn't. "Ashamed of what?!"

"Of what he did to me!" Tears were falling down his cheeks again, but he took no notice of them.

"Who?" Ricardo said softer now that they were getting somewhere. "Your father?"

"No."

He furrowed his brows. "Tad?"

Drake averted his eyes and shook his head.

 ***FLASHBACK***

The thirteen-year-old jumped when the door opened behind him and he was immediately filled with dread when Mr. Kenneth entered the cell. He was given a smug smirk.

"Good afternoon, Drake," he said as he set a radio on the floor nearby. "How's it going in here?"

"When can I go back upstairs?"

"You just got down here. In a rush to leave so soon?" Kenneth began setting up a tripod. "You've been here for three days and have already been sent to solitary three times. I'm beginning to think you're doing it on purpose."

Drake felt sick when the man winked.

"Your girlfriend's back in solitary, too, so she'll be joining us again."

He placed a video camera on top of the tripod, then he left the room and closed the door behind him. Minutes later, he returned with a young redhead who was two years older than Drake. The children couldn't even meet one another's eyes.

"They've just gone to dinner upstairs, so I'd say we have about forty-five minutes. On your feet, Drake." He clapped with each of the followed words. "Up, up, up!"

"I don't wanna do this today," the boy protested.

"I don't have time for your mouth today, boy. How many times do we have to go over this? The longer you refuse, the longer I keep you down here. The longer you're in solitary, the longer you stay at the hospital. The longer you stay at the hospital, the more time you'll be spending with me. Now I'm sure you don't want that, do you?"

Drake was crying now.

"Again? With the fucking waterworks? Genny Lynn's a girl and I haven't seen her act like a baby even once."

This gave the child even more of a reason to feel ashamed.

"Get up. The faster you obey me, the faster it'll be over."

"Please," he begged.

"Drake, you're starting to get on my nerves. You remember what I told you? Your address is right behind the front counter. Do you know how easy it would be for me to sneak into your home while everyone's asleep and grab you without anyone noticing? I'd be in and out and we'd be long gone before anyone realized you were missing. You wanna come live with me?"

Drake shook his head with horror in his eyes.

"No. Right. But if I don't finish my movie, that's exactly what's gonna happen. You understand?" Kenneth's voice was terrifying even though he didn't sound authoritative or strict. "So get up. Let's finish this up."

Drake was still crying, but he got onto his feet. Mr. Kenneth motioned for Genny Lynn to stand next to him, then he turned on the camera.

"Don't just stand there. You know what to do. Get undressed."

Genny Lynn made the first move. Drake snuck a glance at her and he saw nothing. There was absolutely no emotion in her whatsoever. Meanwhile, he was a blubbering mess.

"Let's go, Drake," Kenneth said impatiently.

He started with his t-shirt, then his jeans. He had less to take off, but Genny Lynn was somehow finished before him. His entire body was trembling as he slid his boxers down his legs and kicked them away. He covered his lower region with his shaky hands. He could see the lens on the camera zoom in closer as the man looked at the screen and set up the proper angle. He sniffled and his cheeks were streaked with tears.

"Alright, we're all set." He put his attention on the two kids in front of him. "Drake, move your hands."

Hesitantly, he obeyed and he wore the most pitiful expression as he did so.

"Get closer together. I'm gonna play some music and you're gonna slow-dance together." He pressed a button on the radio and a soft jazz tune began playing. When he looked up at them again, they were stiff as boards.

"Closer... A little closer... You gotta put your hands on her waist. You never fucking slow-danced before?"

After the boy did as he was told, Kenneth still wasn't getting was he wanted. He sighed with irritation and he approached the two. Drake was so scared that he started to back away, but he was grabbed and shoved so close to the girl that their nude bodies touched.

The man went back over to his camera and restarted the song. "Alright, and...action."

The two teens began swaying with the music and gradually turning in full circles like at school dances. Drake had always hated school dances.

He had trouble figuring out where to look. He didn't want to look down at her breasts, but he especially didn't want to meet her eyes either. He could look around the room, but he didn't want to see the camera or the look on Mr. Kenneth's face. Genny Lynn must've been feeling the same way because she rested her head on the crook of Drake's neck as if he was her boyfriend and she was relaxing in the safety of his strong arms and protective embrace.

"Start nibbling on her ear, Drake."

He did as he said and he began moving his hands over her body when he was instructed to. Pretty soon, their lips were connected and they were French kissing.

"Genny Lynn, help him get ready."

Seconds later, the boy felt a hand on his-

 ***END FLASHBACK***

"HUUUUGGLLLHH!"

"Shit!" the man cursed when Drake began vomiting his guts out on the floor next to himself. He felt like puking himself, to be honest. He'd never heard that story before and it made him sick hearing it now.

Ricardo knocked on the window again, but waved Angela over so that she could see Drake throwing up and hurry with a trash can. She was there in seconds. The man took it from her and held it underneath his friend's mouth since Drake couldn't do that for himself.

Unsure of what else to say, Angela asked, "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he throws up a lot when he's nervous."

"I'm gonna grab a janitor. Is there anything else I can get for him?"

"Maybe some wet paper towels." When she was gone, he looked back at Drake, who was panting and spitting into the trash can.

"I'm sorry," the boy apologized pitifully. Tears stung his eyes and snot hung from his nostrils.

"It's okay. Did you get it all out?"

He nodded. Angela came back with some wet wipes and passed them to Ricardo, then disappeared again to find the janitor.

"Is it okay if I help you clean up?" He knew that Drake couldn't do it himself, but he wasn't about to touch him if he didn't want to be touched.

However, the young man nodded. "I'm sorry," he said again, but a couple octaves higher.

Ricardo wiped his nose first, then his mouth and chin. "You wanna move over there out of the janitor's way?" When Drake nodded, he helped him stand and they went to the adjacent corner. "I'm so sorry about what happened to you. I never would've pushed you so hard to come here had I known. I wish you would've told me."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just so embarrassed and I always tried to push it out of my mind. I don't like to think about it." He sniffled, but his nose was stopped up, so Ricardo had to wipe away more snot. "I guess she was friends with someone I knew because I saw a thing about her on MySpace." MySpace was the Facebook of Drake's generation. "She killed herself three months after she was released."

"Shit," the man whispered with sadness and sympathy. "I'm sorry."

Although he told anyone that asked that it was Meelah, Genny Lynn had actually been Drake's first. She could've very well been the last had Meelah not been so supportive and understanding and patient. If it wasn't for her, he probably never would've had sex again.

"She killed herself because of me," he choked out as his crying got harder. "Because I fucking raped her."

"Hey, you did not rape her!" the man argued.

"That's why all of that shit happened to me. That's why I'm such a magnet for it. God's punishing me. I raped her and now all anyone ever wants me around for is so they can rape me." His voice cracked with those last couple words.

"Drake, she was in a mental hospital. She was already fighting her own demons. What happened to her was not your fault — not even a little bit," the man said. "And all the abuse you suffered through — none of that was your fault either. There are some sick fuckers out there. The problem is _them_ — not you."

"I just wanna go home," he sobbed.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for pressuring you to come."

Ricardo was surprised when Drake rested his head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him even closer. Drake really needed a hug right now. He knew it sounded childish, but he just needed to be held for a while.

They stayed like this for another thirty minutes. Drake didn't want him to leave, but they both knew that the man had probably stayed a lot longer than the nurses anticipated. Ricardo made sure that he was calm. Surprisingly, he was. He was getting used to the darkness and isolation. He just had to tell himself that it was like being in the sanctity of his bedroom and not like being in a basement or closet. He loved being alone in his room and having the lights off. The straitjacket still sucked and he would get anxious if he started thinking about it too much, but he was starting to be able to get ahold of himself and control some of his thoughts now that Ricardo had helped him.

"I promise I'll be back with Julio for visitation later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you want me to bring anything?"

"Um, maybe something to read and something to write in and that dark blue sweater Gabriella made me for Christmas."

He was talking about the ugly sweater that she had made for all the boys. Each sweater had "Santos" on the back like a sports jersey, but Drake's had a giant, white "D" on the front. He only saw Ricardo wear his once on the Christmas Eve he received it and he never saw Julio in his. Drake wore his all the time with pride knowing that he was a part of the Santos family.

"You already have that one notebook you've been writing in at the house, right?" Ricardo asked. "You want me to bring that one?"

"I don't think they'll let it fly because it has the spirals."

"Yeah, you're right. Julio's got some composition books he hasn't used yet for school. I'll see if he can spare one. Do you have a specific book request?"

He had already finished all of the books Mrs. Hayfer had checked out for him between his long hospital stay and his lengthy recovery at home. "Anything you think they'll approve of. I have this app on my phone called Goodreads and that's where I keep up with what I've been wanting to read, but if you can't find any of them at the library or if you're too busy to look, you can just pick whatever you like."

Ricardo nodded. He gave him one last hug and some encouraging words and he told him he loved him before he left him.

* * *

Drake was back to sitting in the corner and he stayed that way for hours. He refused to eat and turned down bathroom breaks. Well, he didn't so much as refuse them; he just kept his head between his knees and didn't speak when they asked.

Just days ago, he had been at home with his friends and they had all laughed over dinner while watching _Rush Hour_ for the hundredth time. Now he was in a padded cell in a nuthouse and wearing a straitjacket. He was in a fucking loony bin and he was the craziest one here. He wondered if they would let him out before visitation or if Julio and Ricardo would have to sit with him in here. He was embarrassed enough that the older man had seen him this way. If Julio saw him like this, he would be humiliated. Mrs. Hayfer told him she'd come visit on Saturday, the second visitation day. That was three days away, so surely he wouldn't still be in this room, but did he really want her to see him in a place like this? She wouldn't judge and he knew that, but he was judging himself.

Although part of him was feeling too ashamed to ever face her again, another part of him felt like calling her. Since his release from the hospital, they had spoken over the phone at least once a week and he and the Santos brothers had joined her for dinner at her house twice. She gave great advice and they would discuss the books that they were reading or the shows and movies that they were watching. She'd tell him about how her summer was going and he would update her on how he was doing with both his mental and physical recoveries. They were like friends, which was weird because they had hated each other just a few years back.

What would she say to him if she saw him like this? She'd probably empathize with him and tell him that there had been times when she should've been in a straitjacket herself. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that she would understand. She, too, had tried to kill herself once, only she'd changed her mind last minute.

Drake was pulled away from his thoughts suddenly and he flinched when the door opened. A woman he hadn't seen before stepped inside. When she spotted him curled up in the corner, she gave him a warm smile.

"Hi, Drake. My name is Dr. Wallace."

They had told him yesterday that she would be visiting any time between 11:30 and 1:00 today, so it must be around lunchtime or a little after.

"I'm gonna ask you some questions about why you're here. I know you've answered them plenty of times before and it's probably getting old by now, but bear with me. After that, I would like to get into what happened this morning and discuss a recovery plan, okay?"

The young man said nothing, but he appreciated the fact that she hadn't tried to approach him and that she'd left the door open so that some of the hallway light could come in rather than turning on the bright, fluorescent lights in this room.

"Can you talk to me about how you were feeling when you committed yourself?"

Again, he said nothing.

"Drake, I know you're tired of answering the same questions over and over again, but I really need you to work with me here. I know you want to leave and I would love that for you, but I just wanna make sure that you won't try to hurt yourself again. I want you to get better."

"Can you take the jacket off now?" he asked.

She thought about it, then said, "Let me talk to the nurses and see if they think it's a good idea."

Although she was his doctor and had the authority to grant his request, she wanted to know how he had been behaving lately and whether it seemed likely or not that he would have another meltdown. She left the room and closed the door behind her, then returned with two male nurses, who did as Drake had asked before leaving the room.

"Is that better?" she asked.

He didn't answer her. Even though he could move around much more now, he still stayed in the corner and he still kept his arms folded up around him, but around his knees this time so that he could pull his legs closer to his chest and make himself smaller.

"How are you feeling right now, Drake?" She sat down on the floor where she was and doing so let him know that she was trusting him not to attack her or run out the door.

"I wanna go home."

"I know. The first couple days in a new place can be quite scary. Is that what you're feeling? Scared?"

He kept his eyes low. He didn't want to answer her, but he knew he had to give her something, so he shrugged.

"Let's talk about your suicide attempt. What led up to that?"

"I was tired of being sad," he said so quietly that she had to strain her ears to hear him.

"How long have you been feeling sad?"

"Years."

"How many years would you say?"

"Eight." That magic number eight. Saying this numeral made him start thinking about Charlie and when eight pills had been enough. Now his magic number was, like, _forty_ -eight.

"Eight years ago. You were..." She checked his file for his current age and subtracted. "-thirteen. What was life like for you when you were thirteen?"

He just said, "Bad."

"Why was it bad?"

Drake didn't feel like talking, but he knew that, if he didn't, he might be here as long as Theo had. "My parents got divorced," he said, "and my dad blamed me."

"How do you know he blamed you?"

"Because he told me all the time."

"He told you that he blamed you?"

"Yes."

"What was your relationship like with your father before the divorce?"

He felt himself getting teary-eyes talking about his dad. Despite everything, he missed him dearly. "Good."

"Describe it to me."

"He played baseball with me and let me stay up past bedtime sometimes so I could watch _Jimmy Fallon_ with him and he took me to a record store when he wanted a new album and let me pick one out, too."

"It sounds like you two had a really strong bond," Dr. Wallace said. "How did your relationship change after the divorce?"

"He was drunk all the time and started beating me and locking me in his closet."

"Did anyone know that this was happening to you?"

"No." Then, "Well, I later found out that my little sister could hear me screaming sometimes, but she was too young to really understand what was going on and what to do about it."

"Did he ever hit her?"

Drake shook his head.

"What is your relationship with your father like now?"

"He's dead."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," she said when she saw that this upset him. "May I ask how?"

He hesitated. Did he really _have_ to go into all this detail? "He tried to kill me. He was strangling me, so I stabbed his arm to get him to let go, but I hit an artery on accident."

She frowned with sympathy. "How old were you when this happened?"

"Eighteen."

"Do you still think about that night often?"

He nodded.

"Is that who your nightmare was about this morning?"

Another nod. "I didn't mean to hit anyone. I don't like to be touched."

"Did your father touch you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable?"

Even in the darkness, she could see more water pool up over her eyes and he could no longer hold his tears back. She stood and went into the bathroom since it was nearby, then she came back with a roll of toilet paper and passed it to him. When he took it, Dr. Wallace sat back down in her original spot. She gave him some time to collect his thoughts and she began scribbling some notes down.

"How old were you when the sexual abuse started?" she asked with a kind, understanding voice.

"I was sixteen the first time he forced himself on me."

"Forced himself on you? Could you be a little more specific?"

Drake sniffled, then pulled some of the toilet paper off of the roll and used it as a Kleenex. Dr. Wallace waited patiently for about a minute, but pressed him again.

"Drake? Could you answer my question?"

He shook his head. He didn't feel like talking anymore.

"I understand that this is a very hard thing to talk about, but you're doing a great job."

He could really use some Triple C's right about now. He rarely ever cried during the...sexual assaults. Now that he was clean, he started bawling his eyes out at the mere thought of them. Every time the memories flooded his mind, he was overcome with nausea. He felt so incredibly humiliated and ashamed to have been so weak. The way Martin would hold him down and hit him to keep him in submission made his skin crawl. The way Drake had just given up towards those last few months and would pull his own pants down and bend over whenever his father expressed interest made him want to die. Listening to the words and noises that would leave his father's mouth had always filled him with defeat. He had always been so mortified when his body would go against him and display arousal. Martin had always been on a power trip. Drake hoped that illusion of control his dad had felt had been worth all of the trouble he had caused the boy.

Dr. Wallace changed her line of questioning before Drake shut down completely. "Can you tell me what was going on that made you decide to commit yourself here?"

It was too late. He was finished with her questions.

* * *

When Ricardo entered the solitary confinement room, he found Drake in the same corner he had left him in, only this time, he was no longer sporting a straitjacket. His brother followed him in and looked all around at the completely padded walls before his eyes landed on his friend.

"Hey," Ricardo said softly.

"Hey." Drake was even quieter.

Julio approached him and sat down next to him, then immediately wrapped his arms around the patient. Ricardo started to say something, but the boy didn't seem to mind the touch.

Drake closed his eyes as he rested his head on Julio's shoulder. His friend held him tight and petted his hair gently, but he didn't say anything. Drake assumed Ricardo had told his brother the story he'd been told earlier. He didn't mind and he'd expected it. When it came to Drake's traumas and struggles, both Santos boys needed to know in order to best help him recover. This is what they had agreed on years ago and Drake liked it this way. It meant that he only had to tell one of them and whoever he told would fill the other brother in so that he wouldn't have to repeat it.

"They still haven't let you join the others?" Ricardo sat down on the other side of his friend and leaned his back against a different wall.

"I had another episode."

"Did anyone get hurt?"

"I yelled at my doctor."

"What happened?"

"I asked her to leave and she didn't leave and the walls started closing in and I couldn't breathe because she was breathing up all the air."

The two brothers made eye contact with one another shortly and both seemed sad and sympathetic.

"How are Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer?"

"They're good." Julio said. "They miss you. I went in your room to feed them and they scratched the shit out of me." He showed his friend the fresh scratches on his hand and arm and this actually brought up a teeny tiny smile on the boy's face. "I'm glad you think that's funny. I was about to punt your cat across the fucking room, but then I remembered you'd probably get really depressed about it and cry or whatever." He rolled his eyes and his joke made Drake smile a little bigger.

"Is that dinner?" Ricardo nodded towards a tray on the floor between himself and the door.

"Lunch."

It was currently four in the afternoon. "You didn't eat?"

"I wasn't hungry."

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"No."

Ricardo leaned over and dragged the tray closer, then he put it in front of the patient. "You need to eat."

"It's cold now."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You never reheat leftovers at home."

Ricardo was right. Drake hated reheated food, but that didn't stop him from eating dinner from a previous day, even if it had been refrigerated all night. Drake picked up the chicken sandwich and took a bite to please the man. He kept his arms around his knees as he ate.

"So was that Theo Quest from high school I saw out there?" Julio said to start a conversation.

Drake nodded.

"Shit, that's awkward."

"No, he's pretty cool actually. We hung out some yesterday."

"Did yesterday go alright?" Ricardo asked.

"It was..." He shrugged. "...a little overwhelming, but I was mostly alone until smoke break, which was good. Thanks for leaving my cigarettes, by the way."

"I got back to the car and saw them and thought I'd ask if they were allowed. I dropped off a few more packs before I came in just now."

"Thanks."

"You talk to anyone else besides Theo?" Julio asked.

"Not really. That one girl Misty keeps talking to me, but she's kinda annoying. She's nice, though, I guess."

"Is that the one who's our age? She's pretty hot."

"What did you do yesterday?" the older brother asked.

"They said I was on unit restriction until I saw my doctor, so I haven't left the common room except for when they let me go out and smoke. I just sat around mostly, but then one of the nurses made me go ask if I can play a board game with Misty and that's when me and Theo started talking," Drake said. "Then we had group and watched a movie afterward and went to bed."

"How was group?"

"It was okay. They made the new people introduce themselves and talk about why we're here. I just told them about Clem and a little about drugs because this lady has a son my age who's addicted and she was asking me about them. Then we played BINGO, but like, with coping skills instead of numbers."

"Did you get anything out of it?"

Drake only shrugged, but Ricardo hadn't expected for his friend to come in and be immediately enlightened and cured, so he wasn't disappointed by the outcome.

"Are you supposed to have group after visitation?" Julio asked.

"Dinner's first, then a smoke break, then group. I don't know if they'll let me go or not, though. They'll probably bring my food in here and they said smoke breaks are privileges you have to earn."

"I'll talk to them on the way out," Ricardo offered. "You want me to see if they'll give you a room by yourself?"

Drake nodded gratefully. "I really didn't mean to hit or yell at anyone. I just lost control of myself."

"Did your doctor give you any medicine?"

"Yeah, I start tomorrow. Something with an 'e,'" he said. "Effexor, I think. With some letters after it. I don't remember. I couldn't really pay much attention."

"Maybe it'll help and you'll get to feeling better."

Drake said nothing more on the matter. "Has Mrs. Hayfer called?"

"She wanted me to call after visitation," Ricardo said.

"Are you gonna tell her about earlier?"

"Do you not want me to?"

The young man gave it some thought, then said, "It doesn't matter. Were you able to find a notebook?"

"Yeah, Julio had a spare."

"What book did you bring?"

"I'm gonna let it be a surprise so you have something to look forward to."

Drake didn't care much for surprises, but he left it alone. "What have you guys been up to today?"

"I've been working on homework since I got up this morning," Julio said.

"Dee called," said Ricardo.

It had been a month and a half since their break-up and they were still split, but neither seemed to fully be able to break ties. They spoke on the phone once a week and it was clear that both wanted to get back together, but it was just a bad time. Ricardo was still so focused on Drake that he wouldn't be able to give Dee the attention he deserved and they both knew it.

"How did that go?" the young man asked.

"He asked about you and he said he got the part as Collins in the play you two auditioned for."

"That's exciting."

"He said they've been trying to call you for a couple days because they cast you, too."

Drake remembered being called multiple times a day for three days in a row. "I didn't know the number, so I didn't answer it." He never answered numbers he didn't recognize because he always got scared that someone in his family had found his contact information. "Did you tell him I can't do it?"

"I started to, but he said rehearsals wouldn't start for another two and a half weeks, so I told him I'd talk to you."

"I don't think I wanna do it."

"Why not?" Julio interceded. "It'll be fun and it's a great way to warm up to being on stage again without all those assholes who used to watch us perform."

"I agree with Julio," his brother said. "Not only will it help you fall back in love with something you used to adore, but I think it could be good, you know?"

Drake didn't know and Julio saw this, so he spoke up. "He means for you and Dee."

Ricky sounded hopeful. "I just think if you two got to know each other more and became friends again..."

He couldn't really think of a reason. It was for purely selfish purposes that he wanted Drake and Dee to make up. He knew it. Drake knew it. Even Julio knew it.

"I don't know. It was just a thought. Either way, it's not important right now. You just focus on yourself."

"I'll think about it," Drake promised, but he knew he would end up accepting because he did want to make it up to Ricardo and he did owe Dee a huge apology.

"What part did you audition for?" Julio asked.

"It's a bunch of different parts, really. Just, like, the minor background characters."

Ricardo had found out apparently although Drake had evaded this same question when he was asked months before. "Like a homeless junkie?"

"I told Dee I didn't wanna do it."

"He also said you're understudying for Roger."

"No, I didn't try out for that."

Ricardo shrugged. "That's what he said."

"That's one of the hugest parts. He's got, like, a thousand lines. That's why I wanted to be a background character."

"Drake, you know _Rent_ by heart," Julio said. "Besides, you're just an understudy. It doesn't mean you'll actually have to play the part."

He was right and that made him feel a little better. "I didn't think I got the part. I feel like I auditioned forever ago. I actually forgot about it."

"I guess they get their cast set up in advance. I think they were just finishing up a run of a different play. What was it again?" He looked at Julio. "We passed it the other day when we went to that Japanese place."

"Uh... Shit, I can't remember. It was that one from that episode of _Sunny_."

" _The Wiz_ ," Drake said.

"That's it."

The three boys continued talking for the remainder of visitation without their conversation running stale even once. Drake hugged them both goodbye when their time was up and the two brothers reluctantly walked out the door, leaving him alone until the next visitation day three days from now.

After all the patients' friends and loved ones were gone, Angela came in to talk to Drake. She asked him questions about how he was feeling and what had happened to set him off earlier that morning. He didn't answer until she told him that her reason for doing this was so that she could assess that he was no longer a danger. Once she did that, he would be able to leave solitary confinement, so he complied and answered his questions vaguely.

Finally, they released him from his lonely prison, but everyone had gone to dinner. He didn't really mind. He was embarrassed about having to face them all again after his meltdown. Drake didn't eat dinner because he just ate that chicken sandwich when he wasn't even hungry, so he sat at the table alone and stared at the television absently. He gave it about fifteen minutes before he stood and tossed his Styrofoam tray in the trash can. That way, it would at least look like he'd tried, right?

When the others returned, he still kept himself isolated and no one bothered him. During their smoke break, Drake took two cigarettes and got through both in the fifteen minutes. He wished he had time for another to make up for all the ones he had missed today. Misty approached him outside, finally breaking his peace. She asked what had happened and if he was okay in that annoying, nosy way she usually did, but he ignored everything and she finally left after calling him a jackass. He didn't care.

In group, Theo sat down next to him again, but he didn't say anything. Drake had his heels in the chair so that his knees were to his chest. He had his arms wrapped around his knees and his head hidden in the darkness there. He didn't want to be here and he didn't want to talk.

The beginning of therapy was open for discussion on any topic. Lisa talked about her marriage and Misty about her dead brother and Ernest about constant despair. Drake learned that Marcus, too, was having depression issues after having been laid off work a couple years ago and he had picked up drinking as not just a hobby, but a full-time gig. Drake didn't know the other women so well. There was Hero, Rita, Paula, Daphne and Lois. Mostly each one just said quick updates on their mental progress or how the medication seemed to be affecting them or how visitation had gone or how being away from home and/or work was stressing them out because they knew they'd have a lot to catch up on after their release. Theo didn't talk. Drake had learned the day before from Misty that he never did.

"Drake, what about you?" A nurse named Mr. Preston was leading group therapy today. "Do you have anything you want to share?"

He didn't even lift head head out from between his knees when he shook it.

"What about the incident this morning. I'm sure we all would like to know how you're feeling and we wanna give you support."

Theo looked over at Drake, who didn't offer any sort of verbal or physical gesture in response this time.

Preston gave the classic mantra. "No one is here to judge you. This is a safe space."

Still, the patient gave him nothing, nor did he speak during the guided discussion. Today's was about proper hygiene. He didn't participate in the hygiene-centered game of BINGO either, which Rita had won.

When group was over, Drake was called into the small room closest to the nurses' station to do blood work. Again, he was asked the same questions about how he was feeling. He just told them he was fine and said nothing more when prodded.

The movie had already started when Drake returned to the common room. Since Marcus won yesterday's game of BINGO, he got to choose today's movie and he surprised everyone when he went with _Garfield_. Drake didn't feel much like watching it, so he sat down in a chair against the wall by the large window so that he could be away from everyone. He didn't take the snack that was offered to him and he kept his head between his knees again until it was time for smoke break. When he took a drag on his second cigarette, Nurse Angela came outside and went over to him.

"Hey, Drake. How are you feeling?"

He actually liked her since she had been the one to let him phone Ricardo, so he gave her a shrug. It wasn't much, but it was more than what he would've given anyone else.

"We have a room prepared for you. When you're finished, I'll accompany you to your old room so you can gather your things and I'll take you to the new room."

"Thank you," he said softly. He was almost done with his cigarette anyway, so he put it out and tossed it in the plastic cup they collected the butts in, then followed her inside. He didn't want to wait until everyone else was inside, too, because he didn't want it to be a whole scene.

As he picked up the brown paper sack full of clothes, Angela said, "You have another bag with more things that were dropped off for you. You can pick it up at the nurses' station."

She led him two doors down to the right, which put him closer to the nurses' station and common room. It wasn't much closer, but it just meant that they had a couple less steps to take if he had to be dragged into solitary confinement again in the morning. This room looked the exact same as the one before, except it was unoccupied.

"Thank you," the boy said again, then she left after giving him a smile.

He set his things down and chose the same bed he had last time — the one in front of the desk as opposed to in front of the door. He went to the nurses' station and got his new bag of belongings and he also asked for things that he could bathe with. They gave him a tiny cup of shampoo, a tiny cup of conditioner, a bar of soap like one would get at a hotel and he also got his toothbrush and toothpaste. He took a shower, but he couldn't help but to keep looking over his shoulder. Even though he had his own room now, he was only hidden behind the shower curtain and the curtain that substituted as the bathroom door and he wasn't allowed to close his bedroom door completely. He was covered all over his torso with ugly scars and he didn't want anyone to see them. He still didn't know these people. What was to stop any of them from slipping into his room undetected and putting a hand over his mouth? What was to stop a nurse from doing that?

He got out of the shower quick, then brushed his teeth and returned the toiletries to the front desk. On his way back to the room, Marcus was standing outside of his door talking to one of the women. When he saw Drake, he spoke to him.

"You moved out on me, roomie? What, do I snore too loud?"

It was a friendly joke, but Drake wasn't laughing. He just lowered his head and disappeared into the sanctity of his room. He cracked the door as much as he was allowed, then he grabbed the new bag Ricardo had brought him and sat down in the bed with it. The sweater he had asked for was on top, so he removed his jacket and put it on. This reminded him that he was loved. Ricky also threw in two new pairs of pajama pants that seemed brand new. This was great because there was no way to wash clothes here and he'd only brought two pairs — one of which had been confiscated due to the string around the waist. These two new ones had buttons. Next, he pulled out a composition book from Julio. He'd have to ask for a pen whenever he wanted to write in it, but that was fine. He didn't have anything in mind that he wanted to write, but he thought that maybe picking journaling back up could be a good way to kill the downtime. Plus, if people saw him writing, they wouldn't bother him.

Next, he pulled out the books Ricardo brought for him to read. The first and largest book was _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. He read the first one after getting out of the hospital because Mrs. Hayfer had checked it out for him, so now he could continue on with the series. Next, he saw _That Was Then, This Is Now_. It was smaller and shorter and by the same author as _The Outsiders_. Mrs. Hayfer had probably recommended this one. Next, he picked out a bright red book that was so sleek and shiny that he knew it was store-bought and hadn't come from the library like the others. The cover read, _The Disaster Artist: My Life Inside The Room, The Greatest Bad Movie Ever Made_. The corners of his lips turned upwards into a smile. He and Ricardo used to have Best Bad Movie Mondays years ago when he had first cleaned up. Actually, it had just started off as a regular Movie Marathon Monday, but after Drake had introduced Ricardo to the brilliant masterpiece that was _The Room_ , both had become more interested in finding all the worst films they possibly could.

He knew he would definitely read this one first, so he tore off a bit of the brown sack and slipped in into the book so that he could later use it to mark his page, then he tossed everything back inside the bag and left it at the foot of his bed. Drake stood and turned off the light, then laid down and covered up. Despite how happy he had just been moments before after seeing the books Ricardo had surprised him with, he started obsessing and stressing over how helpless and trapped he felt by being locked away in a mental hospital. He wept for a long time before he was able to fall asleep.

The next two days weren't any better. He took his medicine for the first time that next morning and threw up after breakfast, but it was unclear whether it was caused by the Effexor or because he'd forced himself to eat the nasty powdered eggs they'd been served for breakfast. He'd never had powdered eggs before. Drake didn't even know they existed. Because he still refused to talk to his doctor, he remained on unit restriction and wasn't allowed to leave the common room with everyone else, but he didn't care. He liked to stay by himself and read his book. Since he basically ignored everyone that tried to talk to him, the other patients didn't approach him anymore and they left him alone, even Misty. Well, except Theo. Theo didn't bother him with words, but he did sit two seats away from Drake every now and then and it actually made Drake feel better to know that they still shared a silent bond. He was the only one who didn't try to force him to speak, which was probably because he didn't like to speak much himself.

* * *

On Saturday, he was the first one in the common room. This wasn't new. He always was the first one. It's because he had been told that wake-up time was at six a.m. What this really meant is that someone would come around and check their vitals, but you didn't really have to be out of bed until seven a.m. for smokers and eight a.m. for everyone else. Drake didn't care. He liked the solitude of being in the common room when the lights were out and the sun was rising outside of the large glass window. Every morning, he watched _The George Lopez Show_ until they went out to smoke, then he would start reading. He read every chance he got, so he finished his book around 8:30 that morning. Theo, who was sitting two seats away to allow him the space he clearly wanted, noticed when he flipped to the last page, then closed the book moments later. Theo had a pen between his teeth and one of his heels were in his seat as he twisted his sock the correct way. This was something that had been bothering him all morning, but he'd only just now had the motivation to do something about it.

"How was it?" His voice was muffled because of the pen in his teeth.

Drake was quiet for a couple seconds, then he answered. "It was really funny."

"Funny?" Theo put his foot back on the floor and took the pen out of his mouth. He rested it on the notebook he had in his lap. "What's it about? Can I see?"

Drake passed it to him and the patient read the summary on the back cover.

"Didn't James and Dave Franco make a movie about this?"

"You've seen it?"

"No. Just commercials." He passed it back. "Book or movie? Which is better?"

Drake thought about this. "They're both good. The book covers more, though, but I love the movie, too."

"I didn't know you were a closet nerd in high school."

"Did _you_ just call _me_ a nerd?"

"What? You prefer geek?"

For the first time in days, Drake laughed. He had been called a lot of things, but never a nerd and it was one of the better things he'd been called in his lifetime. He even felt a tinge of pride. "Reading's actually a new hobby," Drake said.

"Cool." Theo's head turned towards the open room when he heard a couple sobs. His eyes landed on Lois and Daphne, who were crying and hugging. "Lois and Paula are getting released today. I wonder what Daphne's gonna do. Her and Lois were joined at the hip. They never ran out of things to talk about."

"How long have they been here?"

"Eh, about a week. I know they're excited to be going home."

"I'm jealous."

"You keep doing what you're doing and you might be here as long as me."

Those words hit Drake hard. He'd already known this, but he'd kept pushing that thought out of his mind because they couldn't hold him forever. Three weeks was a long time to be away from home, though. He was already a few days behind due to his lack of participation. Otherwise, he could've been on his way out the door or close to it at least.

* * *

When morning therapy group came around, Drake and Theo sat together like usual. What made them different was that Theo always sat leaned back in his chair, rocking gently with the two front legs hovering above the ground as if the thrill of danger — the possibility of falling and experiencing pain — comforted him. Drake always remained curled up in a ball hugging his knees to his chest. Lately, he'd been hiding his head between his knees, but not today. Today, he had his chin resting on his arm and his head facing forwards, though he still didn't make much eye contact.

"Anyone else care to share anything before we get started with today's discussion?" Mrs. Renee was leading group again. "Theo, what about you? Would you like to tell us a little bit about how you're feeling today?"

"Pass," was all the boy said.

"No?" Renee looked around the room for a volunteer and right before she could move on to their topic for today (diet and exercise), she just barely caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head towards Drake, who meekly had his hand raised slightly although he never stopped hugging his knees against his body. "Yes? Drake?"

"Um," came out of his mouth so quietly that everyone subconsciously leaned forwards in their chair to hear him. He was finally breaking his silence after Wednesday's sudden outburst and all were curious to know what had happened. Still, he never made eye contact. Instead, he stared at the laminated hospital band on his wrist. "I just wanted to say...that I'm sorry about freaking out on everyone the other day...and I'm sorry I've been such a jerk since then."

Renee stayed quiet for a moment in case he had more to say, but he didn't. "Thank you, Drake. That was very brave of you. Is there anything else? Would you like to talk about what happened?"

He shook his head.

"This is a safe place to talk," she reminded. "Are you sure?"

Drake nodded.

* * *

When Dr. Wallace arrived and pulled him into the group therapy room that they never used, Drake answered more of her questions. He was still private about most things, but she was pleased with his progress and the fact that he was beginning to open up to her, so she rewarded him by taking him off unit restriction. Therefore, he was able to join the others when lunchtime came around at 1:30. The cafeteria was much smaller than a school cafeteria, but there were still several empty tables left after the eleven patients and Mr. Preston sat down with their food. Drake hadn't eaten much since he'd arrived, but today he was hungry. He ate everything on his plate — chili, grilled cheese, peaches and cole slaw — and was still hungry. Theo offered him his leftover corn dog before putting his tray away, so Drake ate that, too. The two boys talked some more about books and Theo gave him some recommendations although he wasn't sure if his new friend would like them because he was into a lot of science fiction and Drake was into...well, basically drug porn.

It was pouring down raining outside, so their smoke break was put on hold and they spent their recess in the gymnasium. Lois and Paula hung back in the common room because they were getting released, so everyone said their goodbyes before heading off to the gym. No one seemed to like the small gym because everyone sat against the wall or walked laps. It was in here that Drake approached Marcus and apologized to him personally. He made sure the man knew that he wasn't the reason he'd switched rooms, but he didn't go much beyond that when it came to an explanation. They talked briefly, then started playing HORSE with the one basketball goal. Drake was pretty rusty and Marcus was very good for his age, so he won the first game. Misty joined the next one and dragged Theo along, so then they played two-on-two. Drake and Marcus won this one and although the young man had warmed up and was now better, his partner still carried their team to a victory.

Despite the rule about not being allowed in the bedrooms during the daytime, they allowed those who had played basketball to take a quick shower before visitation in ten minutes. When Drake was finished, Mrs. Hayfer and Julio were already sitting at one of the tables waiting for him. He returned his brush to the nurses' station before joining the two. Drake felt a bit proud when he was able to give them a positive report and tell them that he was no longer on unit restriction. He told them about what he'd had for lunch and the books Theo had recommended and the game of basketball he'd just played and he listened to them talk about their day. He asked Mrs. Hayfer if she knew when it was supposed to stop raining and mentioned craving a cigarette. Julio commented on how much better Drake seemed to be doing today and Drake told him that he was beginning to get used to the other patients and the new routine. The young man noticed while they chatted that Mrs. Hayfer was wearing two gray and yellow bracelets. One was his because he wasn't allowed to wear jewelry in here. Ricardo had said he would take it home when Drake had removed it in the waiting room, so he wasn't sure how his former teacher had ended up with it. Maybe they met for dinner after that first visitation and Ricardo let her hold on to it. Drake commented on it and Alice confirmed this. The young man couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt a warmth in his heart.

Marcus and Ernest sat with Drake and Theo during dinner and they talked about a bunch of random bullshit — women mostly. Drake sat and listened to some of the older gentlemen's outrageous stories of their younger years, including one told by Ernest about dating actress Meryl Streep in high school. No one cared whether it was true or not because Ernest had this way of speaking that drew people in and hypnotized anyone who listened. He could make anyone laugh without breaking a sweat.

By some miracle, the rain had stopped for a short moment after dinner and Drake was able to smoke. In group therapy, they talked about goals and had to write down one thing that they wanted to get out of their time at Wood Lake. Drake was never too great at writing goals. He knew that he wanted to get better, but he also knew that this place wasn't a cure, so he couldn't write that. He ended up writing some bullshit about learning better coping skills and he meant it, but writing it down just felt like bullshit — like being back in school. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he was tired.

Misty had won BINGO again yesterday, so she got to choose tonight's movie. She went with _Premium Rush_ , which was about a bike messenger in New York who gets chased around by a dirty cop because he has an envelop the cop wants. The rain started back up, so they skipped the last smoke break and went to bed after the movie. Drake laid down and listened to the raindrops falling outside his window. He fell asleep before lights out.

* * *

Drake's eyes shot open and he took in a sharp breath of air. It took him a second to recognize where he was. He was panting with fear as he sat up and wiped the sweat off of his face. Standing just inside the door frame was Mrs. Cassandra.

"You were having a nightmare," she said softly.

She had called his name to wake him, but all the nurses knew not to approach him or go into his room before he was up to avoid a repeat of last time. There were two male orderlies behind her. She turned to them and nodded as if to tell them that everything was okay.

"What time is it?" the boy asked. It was still dark outside his window.

"Almost five."

It wasn't time to get up yet, so he laid back down. Cassandra asked if he was okay and he said he was, so she left him. Drake didn't go back to sleep, though. He kept repeating the nightmare in his mind. Of course he had one today of all days. It was June fifteenth: Father's Day. This was never a good day for him now that he didn't have a father. Even when his dad had been around, it'd never been a good day for him.

At six, someone came in to check his vitals, then he got out of bed and went to the nurses' station to receive his toiletries. He got in the shower to rid himself of the layer of sweat that coated his body, then he put on some clothes and brushed his teeth. Like usual, he was the first in the common room, but this time, he couldn't concentrate on _The George Lopez Show_ and he isolated himself once again during the first smoke break. He was quieter than normal at breakfast and he even spent the next smoke break alone. He couldn't shake the feeling that had resulted from his nightmare and this shit day and he could feel himself shutting down again. Normally, he had Ricardo or Julio to talk to about these things, but not here. He was surrounded by a bunch of strangers. He couldn't just go up to Theo and pour his heart out and expect to receive the reaction that he wanted. As time passed, he could feel those old emotions bubbling back up and they were swallowing him whole. He even snapped on Marcus at one point when the man tugged on his shoulder to ask if he was going to eat his breakfast omelet. He gave it to him, then he stood and moved several tables away so that he was sitting alone with his back to everyone else. The cafeteria got much quieter after that. It had taken time for Drake to get ahold of himself and when he did, he'd felt horrible. It wasn't Marcus' fault that he resembled Coach Tad so much. Martin used to always compare Drake with his own abusive father, so the boy knew firsthand how it felt to receive unfair treatment due to appearances. He just shouldn't have touched him is all.

After breakfast, he asked for Ms. Cassandra to unlock the bathroom and he went inside and cried. He cried about his guilt. He cried about being stuck here. He cried about his nightmare. He cried about it being Father's Day. He cried about having to live the rest of his life with what his dad had done to him. He cried so long that he missed smoke break and he was still crying when it was time for group therapy. Cassandra asked if he'd like to share anything and he shook his head, then she gave the others a chance to speak. Everyone seemed to say the same things they always did except for Daphne. She talked about how lonely she had been since Lois had left and how much being able to talk to someone had helped. The nurse repeated about how this was a safe space and that she could always share what she was feeling in group, so she did. She let everything out and she cried right along with Drake. Afterwards, Daphne talked about how great it felt to have gotten everything off her chest. She said that it felt freeing. Drake wanted that. He was desperate for that. It was like he had this permanent rain cloud above his head and it was exhausting being so wet and cold all the time. He was ready to let go.

Cassandra started to move on to today's topic, but Drake stopped her by raising his hand. He was hesitant at first, but she assured him that it was okay to say what he needed to say. It didn't take too much convincing. Once he started talking, it was hard to stop. He hugged his knees to his chest and cried as he unloaded himself onto this group of strangers. He talked mostly about the nightmares he's been having and about the abuse he'd suffered through for years under his dad's care. He talked about how weak and unworthy the sexual assaults had made him feel and he told them how confused he was about why it had happened to him and what he had done to deserve it. He informed them about how his father had died and how much he missed him — how willing he was to let him touch him again if it meant that he was still around and how fucked up he knew that was. He talked about how much he hated this day of the year and how much more it made him wish he still had his dad. He told them what it felt like to be a murderer and how he had ruined every single relationship — including the one with his family — to suppress these feelings with drugs. He touched on the subject of prostitution so that he could explain to them why he felt like every man out there only wanted to fuck him, which led to his apology to Marcus for blowing up on him during breakfast. While he was saying sorry, he apologized for how shitty he had been to Theo freshman year and how everything he'd ever done in his life made him hate himself to the point where he would be filled with an intense dread every time he woke up in the hospital after a suicide attempt knowing he'd failed. He talked about Julio and Ricardo and Mrs. Hayfer and Samantha and Brett and Rhinestone and Gemini and everyone who had proved to him over the last month that he was loved and told them how he wanted to get better so that they wouldn't have to worry about him anymore.

When he was done, Cassandra told him how great it was that he had opened up and shared his feelings. She said talking about it was the first step towards recovery and she opened the floor for anyone who wanted to offer feedback. Lisa was sitting next to him and she was crying, too. He reminded her a lot of her own son since they were both addicts and she always thought of Drake as kind since he'd answered her personal questions for her during his first group therapy session. She wrapped her arms around him and held him in a tight embrace and he welcomed this touch. It was gentle and it made him miss his mom. Everyone offered kind words except, of course, Theo, who put his hand on Drake's shoulder as his own way of silently showing support. Daphne had been right. It did feel freeing to get these things off his chest.

When group was over, the nurses allowed for an extra smoke break due to the emotional session, then everyone gathered together in the common room. It was Sunday, so the doctors weren't coming in for a check-in. Cassandra opened the activities closet and allowed people to pick out board games or crafts. Marcus called Drake over to play cards with himself and Ernest as a way of saying that there were no hard feelings. Theo tagged along and they played Bullshit. In this game, the first player lays his aces face-down in the middle of the table and verbally says how many he has. The next player puts down his twos and tells everyone how many he has. It follows that pattern. However, you can lie and put down whatever you want, but if someone thinks you're lying and calls you out, you have to flip your cards and show whether or not you lied. If you did, you have to keep all the cards in the deck. If you were telling the truth, the player who accused you would have to take the deck. The first to get rid of all their cards wins. Drake won because he had a talent when it came to deception. Also, he looked innocent because he had just recently stopped crying, so his eyes were still red and wet and he sniffled occasionally. He used this to his advantage. When he lied and put down cards that he wasn't supposed to, he played it up by sniffling more or mustering up more water to make his eyes glisten pitifully. This way, the others would feel bad about accusing him of lying and were too scared to call bullshit. He won the next game as well and that's when Ernest caught on to his strategy and called him out. Needless to say, that was the end of his winning streak. Still, he had a lot of fun and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders knowing that none of these people judged him or thought less of him because of what had happened to him.

At lunch, Drake sat with the guys again for another one of Ernest's story times. He noticed Daphne pause after she grabbed her tray of food. It was just for a second, but in that second, she looked lost and Drake saw this. Daphne had never really conversed with anyone other than Lois, so she felt isolated now that her friend was gone and the boy understood this. He called her over and saw her eyes light up at this. As they listened to Ernest talk about some ridiculous story about doing carpeting for a family who kept an alligator locked in a room he opened after mistaking it for the bathroom, the table filled with laughter and over time, the other patients and even Mrs. Cassandra migrated over to listen to Ernest's other wacky tales of his wild and eventful youth.

Recess was outside, which pleased everyone, even those who didn't smoke. There was a basketball goal, but the hoop was much closer to the ground than the one that hung from the ceiling in the gym. Drake played basketball with Marcus and Misty again, but Theo sat this one out, so Misty convinced Hero to join them. She had gorgeous dark brown skin that shined in the sun and her brown hair was shaved all the way down to her head. She had long, thin legs and bright, white teeth and she looked like a model, even without make-up since it was banned. Hero was so hot that Drake almost forgot about Dahlia when he looked at her. Suffice to say, he was hardcore crushing on the forty-two year old, so he was more than happy to be on her team when Misty called dibs on Marcus. Hero didn't reveal until after the game her and Drake won that she had played basketball professionally in college. Drake was awestruck.

Samantha and Brett came for visitation and he told them that he was in love. They laughed at this and then they all caught up on how things were going for each other. Dinner went by uneventfully, then it was time for their evening group therapy session. Drake had noticed that Theo seemed quieter today, which was saying something because Theo didn't talk a lot already. He assumed that his honesty in this morning's group session had made his new friend a bit uncomfortable around him, but he learned the true reason that evening, when, for the first time since his arrival, Theo spoke out during group therapy.

"It started when I was five," he said somberly. "I didn't understand it. It's so embarrassing when I think back on it because I used to be so prideful. She always told me that I was special — that it was our little secret. She liked me better than my sisters and that's what I needed at the time. I was a middle child, so I always got overlooked...until Aunt Leigh came over. It went on for years and I never even realized that anything was wrong. I was nine the day Mom got home from a business trip early and caught us...caught _her_...touching me. Somehow, in that moment, when her eyes met my eyes...I just knew that what had been happening was wrong. Everything was so different after that. I withdrew into myself. I've been in and out of counseling my whole life, but I never would talk about it. It was like...it was still mine and Aunt Leigh's secret and I continued to keep it even after everyone found out about it. I've held on to that secret for years, but after...after Drake had the courage to share his story...I thought...maybe...finally...someone else would understand."

Cassandra commented on his bravery just like she did to anyone who talked about a tough subject, then she opened the floor for conversation. He was offered support. Theo wasn't crying, which Drake thought was crazy because Drake was crying. He wouldn't wish the kind of abuse he had gone through on his worst enemy and he especially hated that Theo knew what it felt like.

After group therapy, the two boys sat next to one another for movie time. Neither one mentioned what had been said in today's meetings — neither one wanted to — but they both felt comfort in knowing that the door was now open if they needed someone to talk to about their experiences.

As the days passed, more and more people got released and were replaced with new people until all that was left of the old crew were Drake and Theo. After their day of progressive group therapy sessions, both boys continued to participate and show signs of progress and were released four days later. They swapped numbers, then Theo, whose ride arrived half an hour earlier, went through the process of checking out.

Drake wasn't exactly sure that he felt much different now than he had before arriving, but they told him that the medicine would take roughly a couple weeks to a month to get into his system. He just had to stick it out until then and hope that the medicine came through for him.

"How's it feel to be a free man?" Ricardo asked when Drake stepped out the doors.

It had rained earlier, so the ground was wet and they passed puddles left and right as they crossed the parking lot. The sun was shining brightly through the rain clouds and the air was thick and humid. Drake carried one of his paper bags and Ricky had the other. His eyes moved down to the band around his wrist, which had been apart of him for the last nine days. It had taken a while to adjust to being in the hospital, but after he'd warmed up to it, he'd found that it wasn't so bad. He'd made a great friend and he'd even become accustomed to waking up so early and being on a schedule and seeing the same people everyday. He was sure he would miss them and he'd miss the nurses and he'd miss the common room. Being there was like having a break from everything, but it was time to join the real world again and he felt ready. He missed Ricardo and he missed Julio and he missed his friends and his cats and his bed.

"I'm a little nervous," Drake admitted, "but I think things are gonna be better," he said.

Ricardo gave him a smile. "That's good. That's really good."

He unlocked his car and they put the bags in the backseat, then got inside. Ricardo cranked the vehicle and as he put on his seat belt, Drake searched for a radio station. After he found one playing The Rolling Stones, he sat back in his seat. He was really glad to be going home. He missed his cats to death. He closed his eyes, then he drew in a slow breath...released it...

It took a few seconds for him to realize that the car still wasn't moving. He turned his head to Ricardo questioningly and saw the man's cocked brow. "What?" He already knew before he even asked. "Fine. Seriously?" He reached for the radio and pressed a button to change it to one of the man's saved stations. "You know, the real reason I tried to kill myself is because I got so tired of hearing your shit fucking music. I would've thought that having to spend the last couple of months jumping from one hospital to the other would have given you enough compassion to let me pick the radio station for once."

"Turns out I can be just as selfish as you sometimes."

"Prick."

Ricardo smiled and pretty soon, he started laughing when Drake sarcastically and obnoxiously starting rapping along to the so-called "trash" on the radio. It was good to have him back.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Lemme start off by responding to those who reviewed last chapter. 1. Guest who loves Dee — Yes, I adore him, too! I'ma need him and Ricardo to fix their shit. 2. Guest who wrote the long review — Thanks for taking the time to offer your comments/criticisms. I always appreciate it. I'm glad the Crisis Text Line joke made someone laugh because I'm never sure if the humor in some things is coming off right. I think I'm funny sometimes, but I don't know because writing a joke is different than verbally giving one. Also, I'm glad the suicide conversation between Julio and Mrs. Hayfer was something you liked enough to mention specifically because it's such a small part that I tend to overlook and not really care much for, but now I can see it differently thanks to your words. 3. Guest who liked the chapter — Thanks so much for taking the time to share your thoughts and compliment my work! You're sweet.**

 **Okay, now that that's done. Soooo what did y'all think of the new character Theo? I like him, but I tend to like all my characters, I guess. This won't be the last time we see him. That's for sure.**

 **Here's what's coming up in the next chapter: a possible new romance, a returning character, a failing friendship and two emotional confessions. Plus, it'll be Drake's birthday, which you guys should know by now means something bad will happen.**

 **This past week has been a rough one and I haven't had much time to write, so if you could leave a review, that would make me feel better, at least for a little while. Thanks for still reading this series after so fucking long. Geez.**


	12. Liar

Drake had thought that, after Clementine, he'd never be able to sleep with anyone ever again. Okay, that was a bit of a stretch, but he'd thought that it would be a while at least. It had only been a week since he'd left the hospital, but already, he had found someone else. Well...kind of. He wasn't ready to jump back into a serious relationship, but this wasn't exactly just a casual friends-with-benefits thing either.

Who is the lucky lady, you might be asking? Hero. It was Hero from the mental hospital. Sure, she was exactly twice his age, but he still liked her a lot and apparently the feelings were mutual. Besides Theo, she was the only other person he'd planned to talk to outside of the hospital — not because he didn't like the others. They just didn't create that strong of a bond. It wasn't a place to make friends anyway, but Hero... Hero had been too gorgeous to pass up. Drake had never minded sleeping with older women. He went with Molly for several months. Sometimes, he still missed her, but he'd learned his lesson about having romantic affairs with married women. Hero was single. In fact, she had admitted to only ever being in one relationship her entire life. Her husband had died in a tragic work accident. She didn't go into detail about it, but Drake didn't mind letting her talk about him and he wasn't bothered by the picture of him that she still had on the nightstand. He'd told her about Meelah and their losses had only made them closer.

Both were completely naked before they even made it to the bedroom. She had him pressed up against the wall in the hallway of her house as she stimulated him with her hand and shoved her tongue down his throat. She was very dominant, but not like Molly or Dahlia. She didn't ask if she could handcuff him or blindfold him or hit him or peg him with a strap-on dildo. She just liked plain old sex and this was a refreshing change for Drake. The young man was soon on his knees and he allowed Hero to lift one leg and rest it over his shoulder. He kissed the inside of her thigh and at the same time, he looked up at her. Her eyes were filled with lust. He planted another soft kiss, but closer to her privates this time. He did this twice more as she petted his hair, then his mouth reached its destination and she sighed with pleasure.

* * *

Drake panted for air as Hero rolled off of him and plopped her head down onto the pillow next to him with a huff. They were both coated in sweat as they caught their breath. Hero scooted closer and rested her head on the boy's chest, so he wrapped his arm around her. She could hear the rapid beating of his heart and the sound provided her with comfort. She placed her hand on his chest and after a moment, she started running her fingertips up and down his skin until she got to the scar from being stabbed. She gently traced the line on the left side of his bellybutton and tried to imagine what it felt like to have a knife sticking halfway into her stomach. Drake had told her about what had happened during a previous pillow-talking session and it was hard for her to understand why anyone would want to hurt him. He was so kind and sensitive and funny and he listened to her. He really listened, even when she told him about her father. He wasn't abusive by any means; he was just extremely strict. He always pushed her to do better — to be better. He'd pushed and pushed and pushed until eventually, he'd pushed her away. When she'd told him this, she'd felt silly. Her story couldn't even come close to what his dad had done to him, but Drake had listened and he'd sympathized. _"I'm glad he fucked you up,"_ he'd said, _"because otherwise, we wouldn't have met."_ She'd laughed hard at this. He always seemed to know the right thing to say.

Hero lifted her chin and kissed his jawline. "You want me to make you some dinner and we can rent a movie on the tv?"

Drake wasn't used to having his significant other cook for him; Dahlia'd never done that. "Let's shower first and I'll help with dinner."

Hero planted a few more soft kisses in the crook of his neck, then she sat up. She looked around the floor, then remembered that they'd gotten naked before making it to the bedroom. "I don't even know where the hell I left my clothes."

This made Drake smile. The two made their way into the master bathroom and took a shower together. Afterwards, he brushed his teeth with an extra toothbrush she had, then he helped her find all of the clothes they had ripped off of one another earlier.

"I'm gonna put these in to wash and put on some clothes," she said. "I have one of your outfits here from the other day that I cleaned. I'll grab it for you."

When she was gone, he went over to the refrigerator to see what they were working with. He wasn't there for long before the doorbell rang.

"Do you mind getting that? It's probably this package I ordered. Just sign for me if it is," Hero called from the laundry room as she slipped on her panties.

Drake was still in his towel as he crossed the kitchen and reached for the knob. When he opened the door, his heart fell into his stomach.

"What the fuck's this then?!" came that familiar angry English accent.

Drake's tone matched hers, but his voice was much quieter. "What the fuck are you doing here, Clem?!"

"So you're shagging someone else now?!"

The young man nudged her outside and he followed, then shut the door behind him. "What the fuck?!" he repeated.

"We haven't even been broken up for two months and you're already in some sket's bed?!"

"Why are you here?!" he demanded.

"I can't believe you would just up and move on like I never meant anything to you!"

He was confused, but he refused to show anything but anger. "You told me to fuck off, so I went and fucked off! What the fuck are you doing here?! How did you find me?!"

"Well, I thought you'd come back round the yard, but it looks like you've been out on the pull."

Drake wasn't going to let her convince him that what had happened had been his fault. Not this time. Not anymore. " _You_ told me to kill myself. You _told_ me not to come back."

"We say rubbish like that to each other all the time, babe. It doesn't mean that you should go out and shag the first slapper you see."

"No, _you_ say shit like that all the time. I have _never_ spoken to you like that. _Ever_."

"You know I don't really mean it-"

"You don't mean it? Clem, you pretended to be Ricky and you sent me horrible texts multiple times a day telling me how much of a piece of shit I am," he said, "and I fucking believed you. I believed everything you said. I trusted you and you manipulated my emotions so I'd be your fucking puppet."

"That's not what I did-"

"Will you, please, just go?" He couldn't make eye contact with her anymore. He was about to break. _Don't you dare fucking cry right now._

"You really think I tried to harm you?"

"You told me to kill myself. I fucking od'ed and spent a week and a half in the ICU fighting for my life because you made me think everyone hated me."

Dahlia smiled a little and her voice sounded as if she were speaking to a child. "Aw, you tried to kill yourself over losing me?"

He'd been out here for a while and he was starting to worry that Hero would join him. "Please, just go," he begged.

"Why? You're worried about some slag finding you starkers with your fiancée?"

" _Ex_ fiancée."

She clenched her teeth at this and glared at him. Like usual, he crumpled under the pressure and hung his head. She liked when he portrayed himself as weak, so he knew that he would have to do this before she granted him any wishes.

"Please, I am begging you to go," he whispered desperately.

"You know you're never gonna be happy with anyone else, right? I'm the only one who knows the real you. I'm the only one who accepts the real you. No one else could ever love you if they knew who you really are. You know that, right?"

"I know," he said solemnly. He _did_ know. He wasn't completely cured from her brainwashing.

Dahlia saw his sincerity and it satisfied her. She leaned in to give him one last peck on the lips, but he jerked his head to the side and avoided her gaze. Enraged, she whipped around and stomped down the driveway. Although this appeared to be a win for Drake, he felt defeated. He closed his eyes and took a few steady breaths as they watered over. Clementine always had a way of making him feel like an unworthy loser. It's like, no matter what, he could never escape her grasp. She had control over him — even still — and he hated to admit it. What bothered him the most, however, was that feeling that had surged through him the second he had laid eyes on her. He'd been happy to see her. After everything she had put him through, his heart still pounded against his chest at the sight of her. He still felt weak at the knees when he heard her voice. He still desperately sought for her approval and wanted to please her. He still fucking loved her.

Drake took in one last calming breath through his nostrils and could smell the scent of her strawberry lotion still lingering just like those unwanted feelings he still had for her. He turned around and went back inside just as Hero entered the kitchen.

"No package?" she asked.

"No. Just, um..." He shook his head and waved his arm as if to say it wasn't important. "Just someone trying to get you to switch cable companies."

The woman groaned. "They always come here. I keep telling them no. I don't know why they insist on bothering me all the time."

He smiled. "They're just looking for an excuse to see you because you're so damn hot."

She laughed at this and allowed him to take her in his arms. She closed her eyes as he gave her a soft peck on the lips, then he pulled her against his body and squeezed her tight as he planted more kisses on her shoulder. Despite her age, her skin was fucking flawless and she was wrinkle-free.

"What do you wanna eat?" she asked.

"I have a few ideas," he said mischievously.

She pushed him away playfully and laughed. "You never quit, do you?" Hero passed him his clothes and went over to the refrigerator while the boy changed right where he was. "We can make pasta or hamburgers or...hmm..."

Drake grabbed his belt off of the counter — he'd found earlier in the floor of the hallway — then he started putting it through the loops of his jeans.

"You like baked lemon pepper chicken?"

"Yeah, that's fine," he said as he buckled his belt.

"Let's do that with some veggies. I already had it in the fridge to defrost."

"Okay." He picked up his towel and took it to the laundry room. When he came back, Hero was pulling some chicken out of the refrigerator.

"You wanna make the vegetables? There's zucchini and squash in there."

Drake got them out of the refrigerator, then carried them over to the island. Hero was next to him. She passed him a cutting board as she went to work on the chicken. The young man started chopping up the vegetables and the two talked. They talked about anything and everything and the conversation never ran dry. After the food was prepared, they sat down in the living room and rented a movie: Jordan Peele's _Us_. Drake worshiped him after his 2016 horror debut _Get Out_ and Hero became a fan during the run of _Key & Peele_. This was another thing the two had in common. Despite their age difference, they had a lot of similar interests.

* * *

"Look who finally rolls in," Julio said from the living room as Drake headed upstairs.

"Dinner's on the stove," said Ricardo.

Drake turned and joined them in the living room. "I already ate. Sorry, I should've called."

"Dinner with your mystery girl again?"

"Why the fuck are you being so secretive about it anyway?" asked Julio. "This is like déjà vu all over again. I mean, it's gotta be a guy, right? That's why you're not saying?"

He'd never confirmed that he was dating anyone really, but they knew there had to be someone because he was gone a lot. He wasn't sure whether or not they would approve of whom he was dating and where he had met her, but it wasn't serious anyway. He and Hero were just having fun. It was just sex and conversation. He wasn't fucking anyone else, but if she was, he didn't have an issue with it. Technically, she wasn't even his girlfriend and the Santos brothers didn't need to know every woman he stuck his dick into.

"That's exactly what it is," Drake said.

Julio couldn't tell if he was fucking with him or not.

"What have you two been up to?"

"I just got off work not too long ago," the oldest said.

"I've been hanging around the house playing video games and I made dinner."

"Oh, good thing I ate elsewhere then," Drake teased.

"Fuck you." Since he was sitting next to him and his feet were on the couch, he kicked the boy's leg in a manner that was both playful and rough.

"Ow!" But he was laughing.

"Hey, don't you have your first _Rent_ rehearsal coming up in two days?" reminded Ricardo.

The young man stopped smiling. He shrugged.

"I don't know why you're so worried," Julio said. "You're gonna do fine. You've been on stage plenty of times. You're a natural. The only difference is that you'll be acting, but like — and I don't mean this is a bad way — but you've acted your whole life. You're really good at playing a role. Plus, you've got real-life experience with your part. You know exactly what it's like to be homeless and addicted. You're gonna do so great."

"Unless it's gonna trigger you. We'd both love for you to get back on stage again, but this could be the wrong play. If you know it's gonna go poorly and you wanna drop out, that's okay, too."

"Thanks."

He appreciated their support and although there were several reasons he didn't want to do the play, there were also several reasons that he did. First, it's fucking _Rent_. He's been obsessed with this musical forever. Second, it _was_ a good way to get back on stage without the old crowd cheering for his demise. Third, maybe the time around Dee could help him mend things so that he and Ricky could work things out. Fourth, he could definitely use the distraction. Maybe staying so busy will make it easier to keep himself from relapsing or falling back into his depression hole.

"I'll give it a shot and I'll be sure to let you know if I can't handle it before everything collapses and turns into a big thing."

Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer ran down the steps and one jumped on top of the other and bit down playfully, but once they heard Drake's voice, both bolted into the living room. Agent Jack Bauer rubbed his furry body against her owner's pant leg while Macaulay jumped up onto the couch. She nudged Drake's arm to let him know that she wanted to be petted, but once he lifted his hand to do so, the kitten immediately turned and followed the scent of chicken-favored rice over to Julio.

"Bro!"

"Sorry." He picked up his pets and stood. "I'm gonna feed them."

"I fed them already," Julio said. "They were under my feet and wouldn't stop meowing when I was cooking."

"Did they eat?"

"They ate. They're just greedy as fuck."

Drake left the living room and carried his cats upstairs, struggling slightly because Agent Jack Bauer wanted to play. He made it to his bedroom and closed the door behind them, then set them down. Drake made his way over to his desk and sat down under his folded leg. He flipped on the lamp, which was the only thing that lit his room. He needed to change the bulb in the light on the ceiling, but he was too lazy and had been putting it off for days. He picked up the book he was currently reading, which was titled _Divergent_. He hadn't made it to the library yet since leaving the hospital because he kept spending so much time with Hero, but this book came highly recommended by Mrs. Hayfer and she let him borrow it. He appreciated all of the suggestions and had liked them all so far, but after finishing up this series, he wanted to pick a book for himself.

It took him longer than normal to get through the chapter he was on because his mind was all over the place. He kept getting distracted and ended up reading the same paragraph over and over and over again because he wasn't comprehending it. He couldn't stop thinking about seeing Clementine again, but even more, why hadn't he told Ricardo and Julio? He didn't have to tell them every little thing that went on during his day, but this felt important. This was dangerous. This could lead to a mental breakdown or a relapse or both. This was something they needed to know about. Perhaps he kept it secret because, subconsciously, he hoped that he got to see her again. He hoped that they could be together again. Maybe they had both learned from their mistakes and could make things work. If this happened, the Santos brothers would be so pissed, but should he let them dictate his life? Well, they _had_ practically saved it countless times. He owed them everything. He owed them this. He needed to learn how to stop being so impulsive and chaotic and reckless. They didn't deserve that. Not after what he'd put them through. Not after they had watched paramedics trying to shock his heart and bring him back to life on the floor of the truck stop bathroom. The best way to apologize to them was to behave. He owed them that much.

After pushing himself to finish the chapter he was working on, he sighed and closed the book. There was no way he could concentrate on anything more until he cleared his conscience. His friends were probably done eating now, so he let his kittens run past his feet and race him downstairs when he opened the door. He found the brothers in the kitchen this time instead of the living room. Ricardo was washing dishes at the sink and Drake entered just in time to hear him nag Julio about putting them into the dishwasher after he rinsed them. The youngest of the three clicked to turn off his phone and set it down, then he went over to help his brother.

"So," Drake started suddenly, announcing his arrival, "I probably should've said this earlier, but while I was out, I ran into Clem." He tried to say this casually, but he was clearly nervous and with good reason, for both boys immediately froze.

Julio turned and looked at him. "You _ran_ into her? Like accidentally?"

"Yeah." Sometimes he felt like they were his parents and he was about to be grounded or have his allowance taken away or something.

"Are you sure it was accidentally?" Ricardo asked him. He seemed more calm about this than his brother, but that was only on the outside.

"Yes," Drake answered quietly. "Well, I mean, it was for me. I think...maybe she was following me."

"She's stalking you?" Julio said.

"I didn't say that." Why was he still trying to rationalize her crazy? "She probably just saw me at the store coincidentally."

"And followed you," Julio said. Why wasn't Drake seeing how serious this was?

Ricardo could tell that his brother's line of questioning was hurting the young man's feelings. "Did she approach you when you were at the store?"

"Not really."

"Not really?" Julio repeated.

"I went to a friend's house and she showed up at her door," he admitted.

"A friend or, like, a _friend_?" the oldest asked.

"A woman."

"So she followed you to a girl's house and came to the door to stop you before you did something with someone who wasn't her?" Julio asked.

"Well, not exactly. We had sex and we showered and then she came to the door." This interrogation was making him feel stupid and uncomfortable. Why has he even brought this up?

"Like she was waiting outside to see how long you would be in there and then she decided it was too long?" said Ricardo.

"Or like she was watching you two do it through the window so she'd know when you were done and could catch you off guard?" Julio added before his friend could answer.

Drake shrugged.

"Did she say anything about you to the girl you were with, like trying to make you look bad?" Ricky asked.

"She was changing, so I answered the door alone and made Clem go away."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing really."

"What did she say?" he asked again.

"She just said...the usual. That I suck and that I'm making a big mistake by not being with her."

"Arrogant bitch," Julio mumbled.

Ricardo stuck to asking the important questions. "Do _you_ feel like you're making a mistake?"

He didn't answer right away.

"Drake, what the fuck?" Julio said.

"Look, let's just discuss this calmly and without judgement, alright?" The oldest waved for his troubled friend to take a seat on one of the bar stools and Julio joined him.

"I'm not trying to be a dick, but seriously?" Julio said. "She treated you like shit. Look at everything you went through because of her."

"I know. You don't have to worry. I'm not gonna get back with her." Drake decided that this was the best thing to do after seeing their reactions. "I don't want to make either of you obsess over the possibility of me doing something stupid or hurting myself again, so I'll stay away from her."

"We don't want you to stay away from her just for our sake, Drake," Ricardo said kindly. "We want you to see why you deserve better than her."

"I know. I know you're right. I just...I fell so hard for her. I've spent the last year with her. I did everything she asked and I sacrificed everything to please her. I just wish it would've been enough. I wish _I_ would've been enough." His eyes were getting wet. "You're right, though. I guess...after what happened to my dad, I just thought I could...replace him." We accept the love we think we deserve. That was a quote from _The Perks Of Being A Wallflower_ , which Mrs. Hayfer had read to him in the hospital. Drake felt ashamed and embarrassed about being the way that he was. He shrugged because he had no explanation for why he had gotten rid of one abusive relationship just to substitute it with another. He hung his head.

Ricardo didn't say anything. He went around to the other side of the island and wrapped his arms around the boy. This gesture reminded him that he wasn't unworthy like his father and Dahlia had convinced him. He was allowed to be happy, too. The people around him forgave him for all of his bullshit. He was the only one holding himself back. He needed to learn to forgive himself, too.

"I don't think the medicine's working," he said into his friend's chest. "I keep trying to distract myself. I guess that's why I'm gone all day. Sometimes, it just doesn't help, though."

"You know it's gonna take time. They said it could be a month or so before it kicks in."

"I'm not trying to be so negative and whiny all the time."

"I'd rather you be negative and whiny than be out on the streets because you let your feelings bottle up until they caused you to relapse." Ricardo rubbed his back and offered him a smile when he pulled away.

"Thanks."

"You wanna go for a walk?" Julio asked.

Drake let go of his breath, then sniffled. "Sure."

"He's just trying to get out of helping with the dishes," Ricardo said with a smirk.

"Bruh, I cooked!"

"For the first time in how many days?"

"This was my relax day."

"You're literally just putting plates in a dishwasher. I'm doing all the hard stuff."

"Oh my fucking God," he grumbled, then he stomped around the island and grumpily started loading the dishwasher.

Drake couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself. Despite all of his complaining and protesting and griping, it only took him about five minutes to finish.

"See, that wasn't so bad," his brother said. "All that bitching for nothing."

"God, you're so annoying!" He stalked upstairs to change into pajamas like Drake, then he came back down stairs and slipped on his tennis shoes as if he had forgotten all about being angry with Ricardo. "Ready?"

Drake stood and put on his shoes.

"Have fun," the older one said. "Don't talk to strangers."

Julio rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him. Drake picked up his cigarettes and lighter off the banister, then lit one and followed his friend down the driveway.

"Can I get one of those?"

Drake tossed him the pack and caught up to him as he slowed down to pull one out and light it. "You okay?"

The young man exhaled a breath of smoke. "Just wanted to get out of the house."

It was getting dark out, which was fine because both enjoyed the nighttime. When they were a good ways down the road, Julio pulled out a flask. Drake watched with discomfort as he swallowed some, then his friend held it out to him. He wanted so badly to say no. He didn't want to be an enabler, but he couldn't say no to alcohol or any other mind-altering substance, so he took the flask.

"Hey, so-" Julio stopped so suddenly and turned towards him that Drake almost ran into him. "-about what I said when I kinda blew up on you back at the hospital-"

"You don't have to-"

"No, I know, but I want to. I feel like, well...you know I meant what I said, but I'm just... I didn't mean for it to come out that way...like, that harshly."

Drake couldn't believe that he was just now realizing that Julio was drunk and had been for some time now. "It's okay."

Even intoxicated, Julio could feel just how awkward this conversation was. "I feel like I just made it worse." _Why bring it up if I'm not even sorry about it?_

"No, I get it. It was something I needed to hear. I've been a shitty friend."

"But you haven't," he argued. "I was just jealous of the relationship you have with my brother."

"I've been trying to back off and give you two alone time." And he had, which is part of the reason he stayed at Hero's so much.

"I've noticed and I really appreciate that, but...I just think...you shouldn't have to..." Although he had been spending a lot more time with Ricardo and he got what he wanted, he still felt guilty for taking him from Drake.

"It's really okay," he said. "I know that I can always come to either one of you if I really need to, but I've gotta learn how to figure out my own shit first before running to someone else to fix my problems.

This entire conversation felt strange. Julio kept rambling on and it was like he was sorry for not being sorry. This didn't hurt Drake's feelings. Everything Julio had said that day was the truth and he was genuinely trying to work on those things.

"Can we talk about..." Drake started, but he trailed off. After he'd said it, he immediately knew that it was a mistake.

"About what?" his friend asked.

"Never mind."

"No, what?"

"We'll talk about it later. It's just gonna piss you off."

Julio stopped and looked at him. "Tell me."

Drake sighed, then looked around the dark, empty street. There was something about Julio that...scared him. He wasn't the same person and that made Drake nervous. He didn't want to compare him to his father — no one was anywhere near as horrible as Martin — but there were definitely some similarities. For starters, he wouldn't have been scared to be alone with the old Julio.

"I just..." He swallowed and felt his heart racing. He knew that his friend wouldn't hurt him, but he couldn't overcome the post traumatic stress caused by his past. "I'm worried about you, man."

"Worried about me?" He seemed genuinely confused.

"Just because..." He spoke quietly. "...you've been drinking a lot..."

"Yeah, so?" the drunk young man challenged.

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked down at the asphalt. "I just..." He shrugged. "Never mind. What the fuck do I know?"

"Exactly. What the fuck do you know?" He was already angry.

"I just don't want you to get hurt-"

"You don't want me to get hurt? It's a little too late for that, isn't it?" he said accusingly. "Huh?"

"I'm just... Alcohol can turn people into monsters."

"And drugs turn people into pathetic dope fiends, but that doesn't stop you, does it?"

How he wished he could go back in time and stop this conversation before it had started. He flinched when Julio yelled at him.

"Does it?!"

"I'm clean now," he stuttered dumbly.

"So that gives you the right to judge me?" He stepped closer and Drake could smell the alcohol on his breath. "So I'm just not allowed to take the edge off? You run away and get high and end up as a homeless prostitute, but when I want have one little drink before bed, you have to ruin it? _Stop_ projecting your weakness onto me!"

This time, his words hurt. For a moment, he felt himself conceding, but this was someone he cared about and he couldn't just sit idly by while he fucked up his life. "Do you hear yourself right now? This isn't you. Don't you see how much the alcohol is changing you?"

"Well, maybe I wouldn't need it so much if you didn't make it impossible to be sober just to stand being around you."

Drake could feel heat behind his eyes.

Julio chuckled bitterly. "You know what? I don't need to hear this. Not from _you_. You're just a stupid fucking junkie." He stalked past the boy, knocking him to the side with his shoulder, and started home.

The young man sighed. "Julio-"

"Fuck. You."

* * *

 **Ricardo Santos: whats going on? everything alright?**

Drake let go of his breath as he sadly looked down at his phone, then his eyes moved over to his right. He was in a stall in the Ingles bathroom and on top of the toilet paper dispenser was a cluster of tiny, red pills, the two boxes they had come from stacked one on top of the other nearby. Walmart — those fuckers — no longer sold Triple C's — not the cheap brand anyway — and Drake didn't have twenty bucks to spend on three boxes of his favorite pills. Therefore, he'd walked across the street to Ingles. He remembered that they had their boxes behind lock and key, but he'd been desperate enough to ask a worker for a couple. The pharmacist informed him that they had moved them to the shelf with the other cough and cold medicines, which Drake was grateful for because it would save him the embarrassment. His luck got even better when he'd found what he'd been looking for and had seen that Ingles now sold those tiny, red pills in packs of twenty-four instead of just sixteen. He'd only had to get two boxes as opposed to three and hadn't looked like such a loser checking out. Everything was coming together. It was like the universe wanted him to get high. Never has anything ever aligned so perfectly for him.

So here he was in the fucking bathroom trying to talk himself out of using. If he got back on Triple C's, he could do things the right way this time. He wouldn't run away or let any strangers fuck him or stick their dicks in his mouth. He would simply go back home and try his hardest to keep this all a secret. He could do it. He'd done it for over two years when he'd first started and even if he did get caught, he had the assurance that Ricky wouldn't kick him out. Honestly, this was best for everyone. That's what he told himself anyway. Being back with Charlie would numb him to all of the bullshit he had been going through. He'd feel so much happier with Charlie and Julio would like him better. Even Ricardo deserved a break from his overbearing traumas.

 **Drake Parker: yea im ok julio gotpissdd ,,took a walk alone bcz rhinestone calls omw now**

He sighed again, then he put his phone away and scooped some of the pills into his hand. Drake picked up the Diet Pepsi he had bought, then he just stood there holding the two things. He could already taste them. He already felt those sugar-coated pills clattering down his esophagus, rubbing against its walls and leaving that awful red sugar coating in his throat so that he would keep burping and salivating and tasting them on his tongue until he vomited. His entire body cringed, starting at his toes and it traveled all the way up. He belched at the thought of them and had to swallow down the puke that was already coming up despite having not yet swallowed the little fuckers. His cheeks were red and hot and his teeth chattered with fear and nervousness and pure excitement. He was going to do this right this time. He was going to make this right. Drake opened his mouth and tossed the pills as far back as he could to avoid them touching his taste-buds, then he immediately chased them down with his soda.

* * *

 _ **Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes**_  
 _ **Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear**_  
 _ **Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes**_  
 _ **How do you measure, measure a year?**_

 _ **In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee**_  
 _ **In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife**_  
 _ **In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes**_  
 _ **How do you measure a year in the life**_

 _ **How about love?**_  
 _ **How about love?**_  
 _ **How about love?**_  
 _ **Measure in love**_  
 _ **Seasons of love**_  
 _ **Seasons of love**_

A woman waved her hand shortly in a dismissive way. She had straight blonde hair that reached her shoulders and she wore glasses and a nice black suit. Earlier, she had introduced herself as Allie. "Alright, great work everyone. We're gonna break for lunch. Be back here in one hour."

The line of singers split apart into groups and started chatting, but Drake went off alone over to a wall and squatted down in front of his backpack. He unzipped it and pulled out a bottle of water. "Seasons Of Love" was the first song they had started working on together. The morning had mostly been spent with introductions and quick (and dumb) team-building activities. Drake hated team-building. There was too much touching.

As he put his bottle back into his bag, his eyes landed on the brown plastic grocery sack that was tucked away in the bottom. Inside were two boxes of cough medicine. Just looking at them made him salivate. If he took some — just half a box or so, which wouldn't really get him high — this would all be easier. He was overwhelmed by all of these new, bubbly, outgoing strangers and he still hadn't spoken to Dee yet. In fact, Dee refused to even make eye contact with him, which was awkward because they had both been a part of the same group for the team-building exercises. Maybe he could just take some of the pills — just enough to numb him up a bit so that he could break the ice. He thought back on the rules he had made for himself just two days ago. 1). No more than forty-eight pills at a time. 2). Don't get high first thing in the morning. 3). Only buy enough boxes for one day's use. 4). Only get high once a day. 5). Stay the fuck away from Coach Tad. 6). Stay away from the truck stop. 7). Don't use in public. 8). Do not get caught. He had been struggling with a lot of these stipulations, but right now, the hardest one to obey was number seven. If he took some right now, he knew that after the few pills kicked in a numbed him without getting him high, he'd go back for more and end up taking all forty-eight pills. He would be too fucked up to not make it obvious and that would just be embarrassing in front of all these strangers, not to mention Dee, and surely, it'd get back to Ricardo and he would be screwed.

"Hey," came a soft, but unabashed voice from behind him.

Drake quickly closed his bag and turned. He had to look up because he was still squatting. She had tan skin and pretty brown hair with large brown eyes. She smiled sweetly, which showed off her defined dimples.

"My name's Kristy. You're Drake, right?" The cute way she squinted at him when she asked this aroused him.

"Yeah."

"Me and some of the others are gonna go to Subway together. Would you like to come?"

"Um..." He looked down at his bag, then back up at her again. His shyness and anxiety about being around so many new people at once were just an excuse he gave himself to rationalize getting high. Now a new door has opened and he had the chance to get over this nerve-wracking situation sober. Was he going to do it? "Yeah, okay."

"Great." Her smile was so distracting. "I got one more seat if you wanna ride with me."

Drake stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Okay."

* * *

When he entered the Subway restaurant, the other half of their group was already there. Most were already sitting with their sandwiches, but a couple were still at the counter having theirs made. Among those at the table, he saw Dee. He inwardly cursed. He'd wanted to talk to him — eventually — but alone.

It wasn't until it was Drake's turn to order that he realized he wasn't even hungry. His stomach was empty and hallow, but it felt full like, after swallowing ninety-six pills over the past two days, he had no room left in his stomach. Plus, the fact that he hadn't been eating only made his stomach grow smaller. Drake skipped on the sandwich and instead ordered a sprite, then he sat in the empty seat next to Kristy. Dee was across from him, but three seats away.

"So should we maybe go around the table and have everyone talk a little about themselves?" a girl named Hollie suggested when everyone was in a seat. "Get to know each other better?"

"That sounds like a great idea." Her name was Salajah, but she had earlier told them that she just preferred to be call Sal. She played one of the leads: Mimi Marquez. Mimi was a nineteen-year-old exotic dancer and an HIV+ junkie. She's with Roger, a clean and sober, HIV+ musician, for a good portion of the play.

If she was playing Mimi, Drake now didn't mind so much if the guy playing Roger bailed out and he had to fill in. He wouldn't mind having scenes with her. Plus, they share an onstage kiss. He realized now that he kept thinking about having sex with a lot of different women. It was like, when he was with Dahlia, he had only had eyes for her. He never really even thought about any other girls that way. Now he was a free man and he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

It wasn't until Dee took his turn and started talking about himself that Drake remembered he'd have to tell everyone who he was. He kept his head down to avoid meeting his best friend's ex's eyes. _What do I say? I'm an addict? I'm an asshole? I'm a selfish, shitty friend?_ He didn't have many interests other than Charlie. Most of the others talked about colleges they were attending or had graduated from. Drake never even completed high school. They talked about their goals and aspirations and he had none. Suddenly, he regretted accepting this invite. He'd rather be nauseous as fuck and on his way to a high right now. He didn't belong here. He didn't fit in with these people. He wracked his brain for what he would say on his turn. He ended up mentioning hobbies like watching movies and reading and playing guitar. He talked much less than the rest and he was quieter. He kept his head down because he knew Dee was staring at him. Dee knew him. He knew he was lying. Sure, Drake enjoyed those things, but that's not who he was. Drake was a piece of shit. He was an easily-manipulated idiot who had ditched his best friends for some girl. He was a drunken bastard who had tried to seduce his best friend's boyfriend. He was the pathetic coward who had tried to kill himself and then soaked up all the pity. He was the leach who had clung back onto the friends he had betrayed and was being taken care of by them. That's who Drake Parker was.

* * *

Ricardo turned off the oven, then hungrily looked down at the lasagna he had just set on top of the stove.

"Is it actually done this time?" Julio groaned impatiently from a bar stool as he absently scrolled through Facebook.

Before Ricky could respond, he heard the front door open and saw Drake walk in. "There he is!" he said excitedly. "So? How was it?"

The young man didn't even stop. Instead, he went straight for the staircase and jogged up. "Great. They hate me."

The Santos brothers shared a confused glance.

 _ **Oh please don't get it twisted**_  
 _ **Come on let's be realistic**_  
 _ **'Cause I am not a role model**_  
 _ **I'm just trying to get through my day**_  
 _ **I take for granted the best that I've been handed**_  
 _ **And not to make excuses**_  
 _ **But what would help is more medicine**_

When Drake made it to his room, he dropped his backpack in the middle of the floor and plopped down onto the bed. He was fucking exhausted. They hadn't even done any of the choreography today, but being around so many people at once wore him out. Did Drake believe his fellow crew members hated him? Yes. Did his fellow crew members actually hate him? Absolutely not. As a matter of fact, three girls and a guy had made passes at him and many people had tried to engage him in conversation. But come on, it's Drake. Of course he's going to let his brain bring him down. Martin wasn't there to do it anymore, nor was Dahlia. He's all he had left.

They just made him feel so inferior is all. They all had dreams and plans and they were going somewhere. Drake wasn't looking forward to anything. Instead, he kept looking back to see his past chasing after him. He kept trying to outrun it. He just didn't want to end up as a homeless junkie prostitute. He didn't need to become anything special. He just wanted to be fucking normal.

 ** _Your momma does drugs (can't get enough)_**  
 ** _Your daddy does drugs (can't get enough)_**  
 ** _Everybody does drugs (can't get enough)_**  
 ** _Everybody does drugs (can't get enough)_**

 ** _Your momma does drugs (can't get enough)_**  
 ** _Your daddy does drugs (can't get enough)_**  
 ** _Everybody does drugs (can't get enough)_**  
 ** _Everybody does drugs (can't get enough)_**

His bedroom door was pushed open and Ricardo came inside. "What's up?" the man asked with concern.

"I'm just fucking exhausted," he said.

"It didn't go well?"

"It was fine. You know me. I just overthink everything."

Drake used to always have a habit of downplaying his feelings for the sake of not bothering others, but usually it was to anyone else but his roommates. Ricardo immediately picked up on what he was doing and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. You know I always act like this around new people. I'll get over it eventually."

Typically when Drake was feeling this bad, his friend would expect him to cry and open up to him, but the boy seemed shut off. "You've been acting different lately. Did something happen? Is there something going on?" He was onto him.

"No, I guess I've just been nervous about this whole thing, but I'm trying to work past all that."

"If playing this role is affecting you or making you anxious in any way, you know you can back out. Julio and I will support you either way."

This wasn't true. Julio hadn't spoken a word to him since their argument two nights ago. Ricardo didn't know this, though.

"I know. Thanks," Drake said. "I'll be okay. Really."

The man offered him a kind smile before he stood. "Dinner's ready."

"Um, I actually ate already. A few of us got together and had Subway for dinner." It had been lunch and he hadn't even eaten then, but if he ate now, he would surely throw up the pills he planned on taking.

"Okay. You wanna come watch this movie with us?"

"I think I'm just gonna listen to music," he said.

The second Ricardo left him, he got up and closed the door, then quietly locked it. He turned on his radio, but not because he cared to listen to it. He just needed to cover the sounds of him tearing open his boxes of Triple C's. He eagerly pulled the boxes out of his backpack and subconsciously let out a sigh of relief.

 _ **I can't get enough, too high to get up**_  
 _ **I keep fucking up my life with rad drugs**_  
 _ **I can't get enough, too high to get up**_  
 _ **I keep fucking up my life with rad drugs**_

* * *

Drake breathed smoke deep into his lungs, then leaned his back against the brick wall. It was a little after four and Ricardo had just texted him saying he would be late picking him up because he got held up at work. He said he'd call Julio and insisted even though Drake protested. The young man half expected Julio to leave him standing here all night. He would've preferred that over the awkwardly silent car ride that they would no doubt have. Everything was so messed up, but Drake felt fine. He felt fine because Charlie was with him every step of the way. Since the wait was going to be so long, maybe he should head back inside and take the Triple C's. He wasn't sure he could hold out for much longer.

The door opened next to him and the sudden sound made him jump, for he'd thought that everyone else had been long gone. He looked to see who it was and the second he saw Dee, he put his eyes on his own shoes.

"Still here?" the man asked.

Drake glanced at him nervously, then offered a forced smile that disappeared just as fast as it had come. A cloud of smoke left his lips on a shaky exhale.

"Can I give you a ride?"

The boy received a text at this time, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He was grateful for this because he knew Dee would feel like a bother if he continued to stick around while he was trying to have a conversation with someone else. "Julio's on his way to get me, so..." He lowered his head again.

 **Ricardo Santos: shit I forgot he had to stay after class to make up a test. look I'll just ask diyanara to take lead until georgiana can get here**

Drake closed his eyes and let go of his breath upon reading this.

"You sure?" came Dee's voice again.

The young man hesitated, then he pushed himself away from the wall and followed him to his car. "Thanks," he said. Once inside, he messaged Ricky and told him he'd gotten a ride with a cast-mate.

Even with the radio playing, the lack of words between the two was awkward, but Drake preferred this over speaking. Unfortunately, Dee broke the silence a few minutes in after turning down the volume on the radio.

"Happy birthday, by the way."

This had been the last thing he'd expected to hear, but so far, it was the only recognition he'd received today. He'd almost forgotten it himself. He hated his birthday, but fucking Facebook had tattled on him. He needed to go in and figure out how to change it or make it private or something. The last thing he wanted was for a bunch of former classmates from high school that he hadn't spoken to since he'd left to remind him that he was still alive and young and had way too many more years left before he could die naturally.

"Thanks."

"Twenty-two, right?"

The boy nodded.

Dee was quiet for about another minute, then he spoke with urgency, like he'd had to hype himself up to say what he'd needed to. "I never really got the chance to say I'm glad you're okay...after everything."

Drake didn't say anything. He didn't know what _to_ say.

"And I'm sorry about hitting you."

He just wanted to crawl under a rock. Dee seemed so strong and confident and self-assured and Drake wasn't any of these things. This embarrassed him. Attempting suicide over a girl seemed like such a weak thing to do now. No matter how much he wanted to open the door and hop right out of the moving car, he knew that this was the best opportunity he had to apologize to Dee for his erratic behavior.

"You don't have to apologize. I'm glad you stopped me. I don't know what the fuck I was doing. I'm so sorry. I just...I have a lot of...issues." It sounded so dumb coming out of his mouth and he could tell that Dee was only pretending to understand.

"Yeah, Ricardo said something like that." It came out with a hint of bitterness. There was always talk about these problems that kept his ex so wound up in Drake's life and no one could tell Dee why he'd been suddenly pushed to the back of the line when it came to the man's focus.

"The last thing I wanted was to get in between the two of you. I know I fucked everything up. I was on a path of self-destruction that night and I destroyed a lot of other things along the way."

"So you and Ricardo had a physical relationship together?" he tried to ask casually.

"It was just one time. We were both super wasted. I was...confused about a lot of things. I think he was, too." The look on Dee's face told Drake what the man was too afraid to ask. "It was just that one time. It never happened again. Ricky is so fucking trustworthy." He saw the man cringe at the nickname. "I know my credibility's not so great, but he is the most loyal person you will ever meet."

"I've noticed that. He just wasn't loyal to me."

"But he was." Drake sighed. "It's just my shit, you know? I have so much fucking bullshit and...I guess my bullshit has become part of someone else and I didn't realize it...that it was getting in the way of things for him."

"I never needed to know all of your personal shit," Dee said. "I just needed to know that I would be valued. There was just an entire month when we were so disconnected. He wouldn't answer my phone calls. He wouldn't respond to my texts. He wasn't present in bed. He wasn't present in conversations. It's like the second you left, he left, too."

"I know what it looks like, but there wasn't anything romantic going on between us. He just has this way of knowing before anyone else — before me even — when I'm gonna ruin my life. He knew all of that shit with Clem was gonna happen before it did. He tried so hard to warn me and I didn't listen and I should've. We don't have any romantic feelings for one another. He just cares about me like I'm some wounded puppy because..."

Because why? That's all Dee wanted to know. He just needed to hear the reason — to hear that it wasn't because he was in love with him.

"...because I _am_ a wounded puppy. That's all I am and he's one of the only people who can see past that. I can't even see past it."

None of this was helping. If anything, it only left Dee with more questions and Drake saw this. He absolutely loved Ricardo to death. He had saved his life countless times. He did literally everything for him. He put up with his mood swings and negativity and baggage and chaos, and what had Drake done for him? He'd ruined the only thing Ricardo had ever wanted. His baggage was a boa constrictor wrapping it's long, heavy body around the man and squeezing every last ounce of energy and life from him. He was the one person who refused — absolutely _refused_ — to give up on him. He stuck around no matter what and rolled with the punches. He accepted any debris that came with Drake's hurricane of traumas. It was time for Drake to do something in return.

"Did you love him?" the young man asked quietly.

There was a brief pause, then Dee spoke with a matching volume. "Yeah. Yeah, I really did." Then, "I still do."

Drake let go of his breath. His eyes were sparkling with the sunlight. "Fuck." He swallowed down the lump in his throat before it could grow any bigger, then took another breath. "Okay. Ask me anything. Whatever you need to know — whatever's gonna fix this — I'll tell you."

"Why does he put you before everyone and everything else in his life?"

Drake closed his eyes as he took a breath in, then he opened them again when he exhaled. "Because he feels guilty. My dad..." He wished he would've taken the cough medicine when he'd had the chance. "My dad used to hit me. Ricky-" He hadn't been able to catch himself before the nickname slipped out again. "-knew about it and he promised me he wouldn't tell. One day, my dad tried to kill me, but I accidentally murdered him in self-defense. These paramedics came in and put me in an ambulance before I bled out all over the kitchen floor. I was so close to death and I had so many broken bones. My dad had practically tortured me. Ricardo felt responsible because he'd kept my secret and...and my dad was...I was..." These words were always the hardest. When he finally said them, his voice cracked. "He raped me. For years." He blinked back his tears.

"Shit. You don't have to-"

"It's okay." He kept going before he lost his nerve. "I don't think Ricardo ever forgave himself."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I wouldn't have asked-"

"I know." He sniffled and wiped the corner of his eye. "So-" His voice cracked so much that he sounded like he was teenager just hitting puberty. He restarted. "So it's like he's made it his mission to save my life, but I keep fucking up over and over and over again. I got addicted to drugs when I was sixteen. The physical and sexual abuse got worse, so my addiction got worse until my dad died. I don't remember a lot after that." His voice was saturated with shame. "I got sober and stayed at my mom's for a while, but these drug dealers were after me and people got hurt and my family was almost killed because of me. My step-dad kicked me out and I started living with this man who supplied me with drugs as long as I returned the favor by sleeping with him. I don't know how Ricardo found me, but he did. This guy was fucking me on the kitchen table and he just bursts through the front door and started raging."

Dee listened politely without interrupting. All of this came as a shock to him and he felt horrible for his lack of understanding when Ricardo had told him he couldn't speak to him about this.

"I was mostly sober for two and a half years. I fell in love with Clementine and I still love her, but they tell me I just got with her to replace my dad. She always yelled at me and belittled me and hit me just like he did. I think I needed someone who wouldn't listen to me — someone who wouldn't take my shit. The first girl I ever loved — I convinced her to relapse with me and she died...right next to me...and I was so fucking gone I didn't even know until I sobered up." He was weeping, but he tried to casually talk through the tears. "Right before Ricardo met you, I ran out on everyone and relapsed. It lasted two months and I started selling my body for a few dollars at this truck stop...until one day, my fucking high school teacher walked in and caught me masturbating for her husband. She took me to my motel room and this guy I owed money to showed up. She paid him off before he killed me, but he beat me and sexually assaulted me in front of her. She took me back to Ricardo and I cleaned up again, then almost immediately relapsed, so he took me and Julio to this cabin in the mountains and that's when we had sex. He resented me for a while after that, but then he met you and he started to embrace his sexuality. Don't worry. I got tested after everything and I came out clean. I was just an experiment to him and vice versa. We love each other to death, but not in that way."

Dee didn't know what to say. He was at a loss for words. Finally, he managed, "I'm so sorry about what happened to you."

"S'okay," his voice cracked out, then a strangled sob left him as he sniffled and wiped his nose. He was trembling and the driver noticed this.

"I feel like such a jackass."

"It's really okay." He wiped his eyes with both hands now because one just wasn't cutting it. "I cry a lot. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," he said guiltily.

"It's just hard to talk about."

"I shouldn't have asked. I should've trusted Ricardo when he said he couldn't tell me."

"It's okay. You didn't expect him to be hiding all this. I'm sorry. I know it's a lot."

Dee didn't understand why _he_ was apologizing.

"And that's the short version." A chuckle left Drake, but then he went right back to crying. "Ah, God. I'm such a mess. I'm sorry."

"Please stop apologizing. It's alright."

"Okay. Sorry." His face and hands were covered with snot and tears. "Do you have a tissue?"

Dee opened the middle compartment and pulled out some napkins with Subway's logo on them. He passed them over. "Here."

"Thanks." The young man started cleaning himself off. "Please don't tell anyone back at the theatre."

"Of course not. I would never," be promised.

"But if you ever have questions, you can ask Ricardo. You can tell him I said it's okay. I'll tell him. That way, he won't have anything else to hide from you." He grabbed another napkin. "And I've been learning how to rely on myself more since the hospital, so I promise I won't get in the way again if you give him another chance." He looked so pitiful as he begged Dee on his best friend's behalf. He'd promised Ricky that he'd try to work things out with Dee and it seemed like it was going surprisingly well. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to guilt you into anything by crying," the boy said. "I just know he had feelings for you and he's always been there for me and I ruined the one thing in life he ever wanted and I'm sorry." He was still wiping away the steady streams of snot and tears with the rough napkin until his skin was rubbed raw. "If it's me you can't trust, I can move out. Julio hates me now anyway and it's probably best-"

"No one needs to move anywhere." Dee comfortingly put his hand on Drake's shoulder. Now he was seeing firsthand how chaotically impulsive the young man could be.

"I just want him to be happy," he choked out.

"I'll talk to him, okay?"

"You will?"

"Yeah. Maybe we can find a way to work this out. I appreciate you being so open with me and trusting me with everything. I know it wasn't easy saying that to someone you hardly know."

"I'm just sorry for everything that happened."

"Me, too."

* * *

"Drake, what the fuck? You didn't hear me calling you?" Ricardo asked after pushing his bedroom door open.

No, Drake hadn't heard him. He was high on Charlie and that made all the surrounding noises faint and distant and Ricardo yelling from downstairs was already faint and distant in the first place.

"No." He kept it short so he wouldn't slur and he didn't look up from the journal he was writing in because he wasn't sure if his eyes looked normal or not. Maybe his pupils were dilated. Maybe his eyelids hung low. Maybe his eyeballs would jerk from one place to the other as he attempted to keep his sights on Ricardo while the room spun around him.

"Come downstairs really quick."

The boy groaned.

"Come on."

"For what?"

"Just come on."

Still, he argued. "For what?"

"Because I need to show you something."

"Can't you show me later?"

"No, come on."

Ricardo crossed the room and grabbed his bicep, then pulled him out of bed. Drake focused on walking normally and not stumbling over his own feet. He gripped the railing on the way down the stairs and felt relieved when he safely made it to the kitchen.

"SURPRISE!"

 _Shit!_

Drake looked around the room, which felt so far away even though he was standing right on the edge of it. He saw Julio, Mrs. Hayfer, Samantha, Brett, Gemini, Sawyer, Ricky's and Julio's mom, and a few of their cousins and their cousins' kids.

One of the children, a three-year-old names Kiara, ran up to him with her arms up. "Dwake!"

He lifted her up and held her at his side like he often did. She absolutely loved him and always stayed next to him every time she came over. She used to be scared of him at first because he was new, but then he gave her some goldfish crackers and they became best friends.

"Hey." He forced a smile and kept his eyes on her so that no one else could see them.

"Haffy biwthday!"

"Thank you." He kissed her forehead.

"I got you a pwesent!"

"You did?" It took every ounce of energy in him to muster up some sort of fake enthusiasm. "What is it?"

"It's, um...I fowgot."

Drake forced a a smile when he heard everyone laugh because he didn't want to stand out.

"Oh, yeah! It's-" She leaned in and covered the side of her mouth with her hand as she whispered in his ear.

"Kiara! It's supposed to be a surprise!" her mother Yolanda exclaimed and there was more laughter.

Drake was nervous about having to cross the kitchen. He hoped he could make it look normal. He could feel all eyes on him. The young man put Kiara back on her feet because, if things were to go wrong and he fell and blew his cover, he at least didn't want to injure her. As he went, he felt like he was doing okay, but he couldn't be sure. No one called him out, though. He took a seat in the middle bar stool that had been empty and waiting for him. He noticed Samantha and Mrs. Hayfer at the refrigerator pulling out cake and ice cream, then he hung his head because everything was spinning. Seconds later, he felt arms wrap around him from his left and a pair of lips on his cheek.

"Feliz cumpleaños, Drake." It was Ricardo and Julio's mother.

"Gracias, Mamá." He had always called her mom since as long as he could remember. He had grown up with the Santos brothers; their house had been his home away from home.

"¿Como has estado?"

"Estoy haciendo mejor. ¿Tú?"

Alice was impressed as she set the cake down in front of the boy.

"Estoy bien. Felipe lamenta no poder estar aquí," Ms. Santos said. "Él tuvo que trabajar."

Drake wasn't fluent in Spanish although he had been around it for a long time. He knew the basics and he knew how to answer the questions she often asked during visits. This sentence was a bit advanced for him. It had something to do with her boyfriend Felipe, but that's as much as he was able to understand. If he wasn't high, he could've caught a couple more words — like _regret_ and _work_ — and put it together himself. However, he was hardly capable of comprehending English right now, much less Spanish.

Luckily, Julio was nearby and translated for him. "Felipe's sorry he couldn't come. He had to work." This was the first thing he had said to Drake in days.

"Oh. Eso está bien."

"¿Como te sientes? Te miras enfermo." She reached up and touched his forehead to check his temperature. "Tu cabeza esta caliente."

"Estoy un poco enferma." He wasn't sick, but Ms. Santos knew about his past drug use and he had to lie in order to keep his relapse a secret.

She frowned. "Espero que pronto te sientas mejor."

"Gracias."

Kiara's mom approached and gave Ms. Santos a hug. "Hola, Maya."

She turned towards her. "Hola, Martina. ¡Es bueno verte!"

Drake turned back to the island when she was done talking to him, but then he was dragged into another conversation.

"I didn't know you could speak Spanish," Alice said.

"I just know some." He looked down at the cake so she couldn't see his eyes. They looked like they had the night she had caught him with her husband: empty, dead and dilated. His cake was a rice krispy cake, which was his favorite, and it looked homemade. Since the house didn't smell like marshmallows, he assumed that Sam and Brett had made it and brought it with them.

"Have you had time to start reading _Divergent_?"

"Yes, ma'am. I like it a lot. I'm a little over halfway done." He had been a little over halfway done for a while, but since he started back using Triple C's, he hasn't been reading much.

"It's great, isn't it? My students went crazy over this book when it got popular a few years ago. I'm all about encouraging kids to read, but I teach a math class."

The young man forced a smile because he thought that's what he would've done had he not been so high and numb to everything.

"Oh, how are the rehearsals going by the way?"

"Um..." He shrugged. "They're alright," but he gave her a look that said they could be better.

"You're not liking it?"

"No, it's great. I guess I'm just...having a hard time fitting in."

"You mean you're actually not the most popular person for once?" She feigned shock, then the two laughed.

"Weird, isn't it?" It was hard to joke around with Charlie, but one thing that was easy was sarcasm. He became serious again almost immediately. "They all just seem so sure of themselves and who they wanna be. It's just a little intimidating."

"You're young. You still have time."

It didn't feel like it. He didn't get the chance to reply because he felt someone touch his shoulder. There was so much touching going on that he was starting to feel glad that he'd taken the pills. Had he not, he may have had a mental breakdown in the middle of his own surprise party. The young man turned to his right and saw Gemini, who pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek. Drake hadn't realized just how much he needed a hug until this moment. He held on a bit longer than he meant to.

"Happy birthday, babe!"

Sawyer was beside him. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks. Mrs. Hayfer, these are my friends Gemini and Sawyer. This is Mrs. Hayfer, my math teacher from high school."

Gemini shook her hand femininely and, as she held her hand out, Drake noticed that she was still wearing the gray and yellow bracelet he'd made for her back in the hospital. He looked down at his own wrist and saw his matching one, then felt a tinge of guilt. All of these people loved and supported him, yet he was still getting high everyday and he'd been doing a lot of lying lately to cover for his drug use.

The young man felt a hand on his shoulder and could tell by the size of the hand and the gentleness and caution that it was Ricardo.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. Just exhausted." He still refused to meet his eyes, but he lifted his head back up.

"You have your lighter on you?"

Drake felt the front pockets of his jeans. "No."

"Where is it?"

He searched his brain for the answer. He was too high for this. He could hardly remember ten minutes ago, much less...whenever the last time he'd had it was. He tried to retrace his steps. He definitely had it at the theatre because he'd been smoking when Dee had approached him after rehearsals.

"Drake?"

When he got home, he took the pills, showered, then he'd gone outside for another cigarette. He often left his pack on the porch, so he was willing to bet that his lighter was there.

"The porch, I think."

"Okay. You okay?" he asked again, this time with suspicion in his voice.

 _I'm being too fucking obvious!_ "Yeah."

The man disappeared outside for a quick moment, then returned as Brett struggled to force a few candles into the rice krispy cake. There was so much going on around him. Sawyer and Gemini were still chatting with Mrs. Hayfer and Mrs. Santos and Martina were talking and children were running and screaming, yet it all felt so far away. It was faint as if Drake were in his own little glass box underneath the water. It was moments like these when he really appreciated Charlie's power.

"You alright?" It was Brett. He looked at him with concern as he pushed in the last candle.

"Yeah."

"You looked like you were really focused on something."

Drake had to stop going into a daze. That would get him caught. "I didn't get much sleep last night and I had a long day at rehearsals."

"Oh, yeah. How are those going?"

This again. He didn't have the energy to discuss it. "Good."

"That's good. Sammy and I are really glad you're trying something new. I think you'll do great."

"Alright," Ricardo said when he returned. He flicked the lighter, then started lighting the candles. There were two on one side and two on the other to signify that Drake was turning twenty-two.

The next several minutes went by in a blur. The lights went out, people were singing, the cake was cut into slices and everyone was talking and eating. Gemini brought over a shot, but Drake refused it. However, he kept pushing and the young man didn't want to make a scene. It wasn't like him to turn down alcohol anyway, so he tossed the vodka — _who the fuck chose vodka?_ — back and shivered. Even Triple C's couldn't numb him from that taste. Luckily, they did dull it quite a bit. Otherwise, he would be running to the bathroom to hurl. Gem gave him another shot, then another and that's when Drake drew the line and told him he didn't want to get drunk and have to suffer through rehearsals in the morning with a hangover.

The alcohol enhanced his cough medicine buzz after a while and really made it hard not to slur. Drake wasn't sure when it had happened, but he had somehow nodded off right there where he was sitting. What woke him was Sawyer giving him a rough kick and, when he looked up, he saw Ricardo's eyes on him. The man looked away as if nothing was wrong, so Drake was hoping that maybe it had just looked like he'd been staring at the ground. If he didn't feel so fucked up, he would've regretted taking those shots. Alcohol and pills are never a safe mixture.

Present time came soon. Drake turned in his stool as Samantha helped Gem bring the gifts over. As he waited, he leaned over and rubbed his face. God, he was fucking tripping hard. He was having vivid hallucinations about the people and the environment around him and he felt so fucking amazing. He didn't realize it, but he must've started to slump forwards a bit too far in his stool because Sawyer, who had planted himself next to Drake after the first incident, put his hand on his shoulder roughly to catch him before he fell.

"Looks like someone's had a bit too much to drink." He laughed and a few others that had seen what had happened joined him.

If Drake gave a shit right now, he would've been extremely grateful that his friend was covering for him.

Gemini started passing the birthday boy his presents one at a time. When Drake received the first one, he immediately ran into a problem. He couldn't read the card. Everything was so blurry and he couldn't tell who the gift was from.

"Kiara, you wanna help Drake unwrap the present you got him?" Sawyer asked.

 _Fucking Sawyer coming through in the clutch! I fucking love him!_

Now that Drake knew who this present was from, he felt relieved. When they got the wrapping off, he saw a purple and blue box. On the front was a picture of a glass ball that had a solar system inside. It was like a snow globe, but instead of snow, there was glitter to represent stars.

"Believe it or not, she picked that out herself," Martina said.

"Because you love space!" said Kiara.

"This is so cool. I love it," he said genuinely.

Kiara then helped him unwrap every gift afterwards and Sawyer casually and inconspicuously set up a system where he read the card out loud to everyone (but mostly to Drake). This worked out nicely because Kiara always immediately tore at the wrapping paper without giving any of the cards a second thought.

When present time was over, Drake had received a one hundred dollar Visa gift card from Mrs. Santos, thirty dollars from one of Ricky's and Julio's cousins and a nice outfit from Gemini. Sawyer gave him the movie _Whiplash_ , which was one of his favorites and he thought that Drake would love it, too. Samantha and Brett got him a used SNES and a couple games for it. Alice got him a bookshelf that he would have to put together later. Julio got him a couple pairs of pants and four shirts. Ricardo gave him three movies — all trippy and mind-bending. One was _Climax_ , which was a brilliantly deranged French film involving dancers and LSD-laced sangria. The second was _Moon_ , which was about a man on the moon having a strange encounter. Last was _High Life_ , which was a sexually-saturated film about a father and daughter being amongst a group of criminals that were in a spacecraft headed for a black hole. He thanked everyone for his gifts and everyone gradually left afterwards until it was only Drake, Ricardo and Julio left. The youngest had disappeared upstairs with the alcohol long ago. Ricardo closed the door behind the last person, then he turned back to the young man, who had never moved from his place on the stool. Drake figured he should say something.

"Um, thanks for all this." He hated parties, but he didn't want to be rude.

The man sighed and slowly entered the kitchen and sat down on the seat next to his friend. "Drake..." His voice was dripping with disappointment.

"What?" he asked, playing dumb.

"Are you high?"

"What?" _Deny, deny, deny!_ "No."

"You are." He remained calm despite how upset he was.

"No, I'm not! I had too much to drink is all."

"Bullshit."

Drake did something really risky and he met the man's eyes. "I'm not fucking high!"

"So we're back to doing this again? You really have no problem looking me in the eyes and lying right to my face?"

"Fuck this!" His aggression was a sure sign of a relapse. He started to stand and lost his balance.

Ricardo caught him. "How many did you take?"

"I didn't take any!"

"You know you shouldn't be mixing that shit with alcohol." He stood. "Come on. I'll help you upstairs."

"I don't need your fucking help." However, he came close to falling again due to the fact that everything was spinning.

Again, the man caught him and Drake didn't protest further as Ricky guided him up to the second floor. He took him to his room and left, then soon returned wearing sweatpants and a tee.

"The fuck?"

"I'm bunking with you tonight."

"I just wanna be alone."

"So you can sneak out and run away and never come back?"

"I'm not fucking high!" he argued with irritation.

"I'm still sleeping in here." He was worried about his friend because he'd mixed alcohol with cough medicine and he couldn't handle waking up in the morning and finding Drake dead. "I brought _High Life_ , so we can watch that or I'll watch it and you can do whatever the hell you want as long as you don't leave this room."

Watching _High Life_ whilst high seemed like a good idea and that's the only reason he gave in.

* * *

He groaned when his alarm went off. He'd hardly slept last night. It was hard to sleep on Triple C's. Even after the climax of the high starts to wear off, the user remains in a strange state of not being fully awake, but not being fully asleep either. He'd tossed and turned and had a hallucination/dream that he'd been at rehearsals, which sucked. On top of his lack of rest, what rest he did get was spent rehearsing in his head, which was no different to him than actually rehearsing because he felt as though he had been doing it for real for hours. Now he actually had to really go and spend all day rehearsing. This is how his past few days had been going since the relapse. He was always so tired and it was starting to show in the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Drake hit the snooze button so many times and just laid there wide awake for so long that he didn't have time to shower, which sucked because the drugs left him coated in sweat. At the last possible minute, he got out of bed, threw on some clothes, brushed his teeth and headed downstairs. Before he could open the door, he heard a voice say his name.

"Drake." It was Ricardo and he was standing in the living room. "Let's talk for a minute."

"I'm running late."

"Sit down."

"I really have to-"

"Sit." He was gentle, yet firm and the young man knew that he wasn't being given a choice. "Down."

Drake went into the living room and took a seat on the couch. Ricardo sat, too, so that he didn't come off as some superior, intimidating dictator. The man took a breath, then slowly let it out as he thought about how to begin.

Finally, he started with, "You relapsed."

Drake hung his head. He knew that there was no use denying it at this point. Now that he'd sobered up for the most part, he knew that Ricardo knew and continuing to lie would only make things worse. His voice was almost inaudible. "Yeah." He cringed when he heard the man sigh with disappointment.

"What were you thinking, Drake? There were kids here."

"I didn't know they'd be here."

"I told you days ago that they wanted to throw you a surprise party because I know you hate surprises."

Drake didn't remember this conversation at all — not even vaguely. If he admitted this, it would draw even more suspicion. However, he needed to give an explanation for his behavior. "I guess I forgot...in the moment."

Ricardo believed him. He knew how much a strong craving could affect his friend. "What happened?" He still had disappointment in his voice.

"I don't know. I guess I was just really upset."

"About what?"

A few years ago, he had adopted this habit of placing blame on other people and making them feel guilty so that it wasn't his fault he was an addict. Anytime he got caught or whenever someone tried to nag him or scold him, he would just flip it around on them and make them feel like complete shit. He couldn't remember all of the fucked up things he had told his parents or his siblings or his friends. If he made them feel bad enough, then they'd blame themselves and leave Drake alone about it, at least for a little while. It was cruel, he knew that, but it was just one of the many traits of addiction that he was beginning to adopt once again.

"Dee offered me a ride home after rehearsals. I was exhausted and I didn't wanna walk all the way home, so I let him." What he really meant was _'Because_ you _didn't pick me up like you said you would, I had to go home with Dee and that's what caused all this.'_ However, it was important not to say the word 'you' here. Learning to place blame properly was an art. _You_ don't blame them; you make _them_ blame them _selves_. When he said he had made the choice to accept the ride from Dee, it sounded like he was admitting to a judgement error — like he was taking responsibility — but he wasn't. Verbally blaming himself would only make Ricardo feel more guilty by the time he finished his story. "Obviously, the break-up came up in conversation and we finally had a chance to talk alone, so I figured I'd just go with it because my apology was long overdue. I only knew him for a couple months and he already got mixed up with all my crazy, so I felt like I owed him an explanation. All he wanted to know was why I'm so important to you, so...I told him everything." If he wasn't so fucking numb, he would try to elicit tears, but it was no use even attempting now. "I told him about my dad and my addiction problem and Clem and Meelah and whoring myself out. I got really upset, but I was still okay," he said. "But then I got home and you know how my brain works. I just started spiraling hard."

Ricardo had listened to everything he'd said without interruption, but he spoke now that the boy was finished. "Drake, you didn't have to do that. If I knew it was gonna cause you to relapse, I never would've asked you to talk to him."

"I know, but I wanted to. I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

"I appreciate that, but nothing would make me happier than to see you clean and content with being that way."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I should've known that asking you to talk to him wouldn't be some simple fix."

"I don't want you to blame yourself." On the contrary, that's exactly what Drake wanted and it was working, too. "If it makes you feel any better, he said he wanted to try to work things out with you."

Ricardo's face was riddled with guilt, but there was something else in his eyes — something like gratitude.

"And I told him that he could ask you if he had other questions. That way, you won't have to keep secrets from him on my behalf. I'm okay with him knowing," the young man said. "And anything that happens in the future — we don't have to hide it from him. Now there are no more barriers."

Ricardo sighed and looked down at his lap as if contemplating. Seconds later, he met Drake's eyes again. "I really appreciate everything you did," said Ricardo with a kind smile, "but if you ever do something that stupid again, I'll kick your ass."

It took so much energy for Drake to lift his mouth muscles into a small grin. Ricky pulled him into a hug and the boy reciprocated the embrace. They stayed like that for a few moments until the oldest broke the silence.

"How are we gonna deal with this, Drake?" He was asking about the relapse. He wanted to know how bad it was and if it was more than a one-time thing.

"I fucked up, but it won't happen again. That's it. I'll clean up again."

"You say that now while you're still feeling the numbing effects you love so much, but what about tonight when that's worn off and the craving hits the hardest?"

"I've gotten through it before. I can do it again."

"I won't be here. I have to work tonight," the man said. There was a pause, then he spoke with uncertainty. "Would you be willing to come to the bar tonight and hang out in the office? I know that's a lot to ask-"

"No, I'll do it. I owe you that much."

"I'll pick you up on my way to work then?"

"Okay, great."

It hadn't even been a week since his relapse had started and not only was Drake breaking one of his rules today; he was breaking three: don't get high first thing in the morning, don't use more than once a day and don't use in public. Since he was going to be under supervision later on that day with his friend watching him like a hawk, he couldn't get fucked up at the bar, but he also couldn't get fucked up at his _Rent_ rehearsals either. Therefore, he'd come up with a plan. He was just gonna take half his normal amount, just twenty-four pills, this morning — enough for a buzz, but not so much that he couldn't function — then he'd take the other half later at the bar after this high had worn off. In the back of his mind, he knew that this would lead to bad places. He was breaking the stipulations he'd set for himself already. Pretty soon, he'd be back in Tad's bed breaking rules four, five, six, seven and eight. However, he didn't dwell on the thought. He kept trying to tell himself that it wouldn't get that far, but he knew better.

* * *

The young man was hunched over as he sat on some small metal bleachers. Right now, the actors playing Roger and Mimi were running through one of their duets, so everyone else waited off to the side. They were all in little groups, but Drake didn't want to be bothered. He preferred being alone, or at least that's what he told himself because he had no friends here. High school was long over, but still all he wanted was to fit in.

"Hey," came a voice suddenly. Dee plopped down next to him.

"What's up?" the boy asked to be kind. He sat up so that he wouldn't look sketchy.

"You have a good birthday?"

"It was alright. There was a surprise party and I don't know. S'kinda not my thing."

"No? I love parties, especially when they're about me."

Drake knew that he should smile or chuckle or something — _anything!_ — but he couldn't muster the energy. There were a few awkward moments of silence before he heard the man speak again.

"Anyway, I got you this."

Drake looked at him and watched him pull a blue birthday bag out from next to him. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"I know, but I wanted to."

The young man glanced around involuntarily. He didn't want anyone to see that he'd had a birthday because he didn't want the attention. He moved the tissue paper to the side and saw black cloth in the bottom of the bag. He pulled it out and unfolded it. It was a t-shirt with the _Rent_ logo on it in white. "Wow, this is so dope," he said. "Thank you."

"I hope I got the right size."

He went ahead and put the shirt on over the one he was already wearing, which was a red and black plaid button-up with a collar. This way, the checkered sleeves and collar that stuck out would add some color and give it that punk look. Now he could get rid of the bag and there wouldn't be any evidence that he'd just had a birthday.

"It's great," he said. "Where'd you get it?"

"They're giving them to all of the cast tomorrow, but I snagged yours early so I can say it's from me." This actually did make Drake laugh. "Now you'll get to be cooler than everyone else for a day."

"Just what I always wanted." He really did like the shirt and it lightened his mood a lot, but it still surprised him that he was able to show a real smile and banter playfully.

Suddenly, the theatre director named Catalina spoke with a loud voice. "Alright, I need my Angel and Collins."

"Welp, that's me." Dee stood and made his way to the middle of the floor.

Drake watched as the four practiced a song. Everyone here seemed to have a general knowledge of the play and the lyrics, so they were going to start learning the choreography early. He wasn't horrible at dancing, but he wasn't great at it either. Julio was amazing. If they were still on speaking terms, he might've asked him to help him practice. It would've been nice to be able to talk to him again. He was falling apart and he could really use his best friend right now.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Ricardo asked as he pulled his key out of the ignition.

Drake was still numb, but this wasn't a good answer. He searched his brain for what kind of response his friend was looking for, but he couldn't think clearly.

"Is it gonna be too much? To see all your former coworkers again?"

So _that_ 's what he was asking. The young man only shrugged, but he could see that this response didn't satisfy the man. "A little overwhelming, I guess." Even with the effects of Charlie, this was true. He hadn't seen these people since he had walked out on them about six or seven months ago. December felt like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then, but he still hadn't made much progress. Last time he was here, he was being congratulated on being so close to his year anniversary of sobriety. He went through relapses, homelessness, prostitution, sexual assault, many hospital trips, an engagement, a break-up, a suicide attempt, surgeries, a stay at a mental hospital and yet another relapse. So much has happened, yet nothing has changed. He was still the same old selfish, deceptive Drake Parker.

Drake was the first to open his door and get out of the car and Ricardo followed suit. They crossed the employee parking lot and the man pulled out his key for the back entrance. Luckily, no one was currently cleaning dishes and the kitchen crew was busy, so they made it to the owner's office undetected.

Ricardo went over to his desk and set down his travel mug, which was filled to the brim with hot coffee. He pulled the laptop Julio had let him borrow out of the carrier bag and placed it, along with a few DVDs, on the desk. "Don't let anything happen to this, alright? You know my brother rarely lets anyone else use it."

The young man nodded. Being back here brought back so many memories. When he'd first cleaned up about three years ago, Ricardo had forced him to go everywhere with him. Every time he went to work, Drake had to follow. He spent many days and nights here in this office and that was triggering in itself. Luckily, he could take his pills as soon as he was left alone.

"Want me to have Darius make you something to eat?"

Drake declined.

"You sure?"

"I took a lot of pills last night. It'll probably be tomorrow before I get my appetite back." The last thing he felt like dealing with was Ricardo trying to force-feed him. He didn't like to eat before taking Triple C's. Whether it was actually true or not, he felt like the food stunted his high. This was part of why he always lost so much weight so fast after a relapse. He knew he needed to be proactive about these kinds of things, but he couldn't convince himself to care enough.

"Hey, I appreciate that you came. I know it's annoying, especially because you spent all day at rehearsals."

"It's okay. I don't mind. I messed up and I don't want you to worry about me because of that." This time, his numbness gave way to guilt. "Besides, I think it's a good idea for me to be here, too. The last thing I need is to be home alone right now."

Ricardo offered him a friendly smile. "If you need anything or if you start getting cravings, come get me, okay? Or text me."

"Okay."

Drake was caught off guard when Ricardo wrapped his arms around him. His brain was too clouded to comprehend why this was happening. When the boy had first gotten clean, he'd had plenty of relapses, but none were anywhere near as bad as the one that had convinced him to leave home for two months and sell his body to random strangers. Usually, it was just a one-time thing, then he'd admit his mistake and they'd work through things. Thing hadn't been like that lately, though, but Ricardo was just glad that it was this time. Drake was choosing sobriety over a life of pleasure and it wasn't even taking much convincing. If Ricky had not've noticed yesterday, the boy may not have admitted it and that could've started a whole spiral once again. He was just glad to have caught it early. He was glad that Drake was still here to hug and not in some creep's tractor.

He pulled back some and kept his hand on the back of the young man's head as he met his eyes. "I'm proud of you."

Even more guilt flooded into his heart and he felt like he was drowning in it. Now he really needed Charlie. He offered a small smile that disappeared almost as fast as it had come. The second Ricardo was gone, he grabbed the open and ready box of pills and a bottle of water from the mini fridge and began swallowing them down.

* * *

 **Ricardo Santos: where ru?**

He sighed as he lifted his eyes off of his phone and looked at the empty office. This was the third time he had checked. The main lights were switched off and the only thing that illuminated the room was the dim lamp on his desk. Drake was sensitive to light, so this wasn't anything strange. What was strange was that he couldn't find his friend anywhere. The first time he saw that the boy was missing, he didn't worry too much. He could've went to the bathroom or outside for fresh air or a cigarette. When he checked again twenty minutes later and saw that he still hadn't returned, that's when he began to worry. Now Drake has been gone for at least forty minutes. He could be at the store buying drugs right now.

 _Ding!_

The sudden text alert caught his attention, only it wasn't his phone. He went around his desk and saw Drake's phone lit up on the floor due to the text he had just sent. Next to it was his friend. The young man was curled up underneath the desk with the laptop on his knees and Ricardo's red Beats By Dre headphones over his ears. He stared blankly at the screen in front of him, completely unaware of the message on his phone.

Ricardo pushed the rolling chair out of the way and squatted down. Although Drake had split up his pills so that he wouldn't get too fucked up, he had taken them many days in a row and the new pills seemed to reactivate the old pills, making him a bit higher than he'd originally hoped. Therefore, he didn't even notice the man's presence until his shoulder was tapped.

"What the fuck?" he asked after Drake scooted the headphones down so that he wore them around his neck. He didn't sound angry. In fact, his voice showed his relief. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Drake was sitting on a comforter and had a blanket wrapped around him. Ricardo kept these in his office because, when the boy had come to work with him a few years ago, he often napped on the little bench. He looked cozy curled up in the small spot underneath the desk. He loved small spaces unless he was closed in fully. That would give him flashbacks to times he spent in his father's closet and basement.

"Sorry," Drake said.

"I'm about to clock out for break and get a salad. You want anything?"

He shook his head, then, "Actually, can I have a Sprite?" He was tired of water because it tasted like the sugar-coated pills. The only thing that could overpower that taste was something that could coat his mouth in even more syrupy sugar. Spite did this. It was so syrupy that it sometimes created bubbles in his throat that made it hard to breathe. Plus, it was something that he could actually somewhat taste, which was nice because he hadn't tasted what little he had eaten or drank since his relapse had started.

"That's it?"

When Drake nodded, he stood and left his office. The clock-in station was right beside his door, so he punched his card, then got his salad and two drinks. When he returned, he passed the Sprite off, then sat down in his chair, but away from the desk enough so that he wasn't crowding his friend. Drake continued to watch his movie. He was watching _High Life_ again because he had been way too high to remember anything last night when he'd watched it with Ricky. He was glad that the man didn't try to start a conversation because he wasn't sure he could hold one without slurring.

He'd asked Ricardo before the man had picked him up from rehearsals to bring the DVDs he had gotten for his birthday. On their way here, the man had asked him in the car if he remembered watching _High Life_ with him. Drake did, but he couldn't recall what had happened. Every now and then, a few specific images would look familiar. Ricky cautioned him about a rape scene and an attempted rape scene. He told him how far into the film they happened, how long they lasted and what to look for so that the young man would know when they were coming. Drake appreciated the warning. He wondered how he had responded when he'd watched it last night or if he'd even responded at all. There was a lengthy and graphic masturbation scene towards the beginning as well. All this made him glad that he hadn't been aware of what he was watching the night before. This was definitely the kind of film you'd want to watch alone.

After Ricardo's break was over, he didn't interrupt Drake's movie to tell him that he was clocking back in. He left the boy alone in the dimly lit room and found him that way every time he went in to check on him. This gave him hope that this relapse wouldn't be bad like the ones before it.

* * *

"Oh, did you manage to get through all your movies?" Ricardo asked as he turned onto the street.

Drake was finishing up a large yawn. "No. I watched _High Life_ three times."

The man paused before he said anything. "Why?"

"Because I kinda hated it the first time, but I kept thinking about it and I knew that I had to be wrong, so I gave it another shot and started to like it. I think the sexual assaults turned me off even though you warned me about them. It was just a lot. On my second run, I started to understand why they were there and that they were necessary for the plot. When I watched it the third time, I was in love with it." Although this was true, this wasn't the complete truth. He watched the movie three times so that he could see it from three different perspectives. He was pretty high the first time. He was coming down the next. The last time he watched it, he was left with no high feeling — just the numbness and focus that he loved. He couldn't tell Ricardo this, though, because then he'd be admitting to his consistent drug use.

"I'm glad you liked it. I know you've been talking about it for a while and when I watched it, I thought I'd made a mistake. I basically said, _'Happy birthday. Here's a violent, unsettling porn flick.'_ "

"I never watched the trailer because I wanted to go in blind, so I didn't know it was so graphic. I honestly didn't know it was so sex-focused at all. The plot I read said it was about a father and daughter struggling to survive as they head towards a black hole. I thought I was gonna watch this chill outer space movie, but nah." Another yawn.

"Sorry for keeping you out so late." It was two in the morning and Drake had rehearsals at seven.

"It's okay. I had fun." He was being genuine. Sitting in that office watching movies filled him with nostalgia. Plus, it was so relaxing being alone in the dark in a small space away from everyone else. He felt like he could breathe better under that desk.

When they got home, Drake immediately went up stairs and passed out within a matter of minutes.

* * *

Finally, he had a day off from rehearsals. And how was he spending it? With Charlie, of course. He was home alone. Ricardo was at work and Julio was God knows where. Over the past couple days, like predicted, he'd broken every single one of the rules he'd made for himself. He was using more frequently and Ricky even questioned him about his appearance and behavior at one point. He blamed it on the antidepressants. He said that the Effexor had started kicking in and that it made him feel numb and took away his hunger. He wasn't sure if this was what the medication actually did, but the man seemed to believe him.

"Bruh, chill."

Macaulay kept nudging her head against him and stepping on the pills that he was piling up on his mattress as he tore open the packages. Agent Jack Bauer was constantly clawing at the door and meowing and she'd been doing this for a while. Finally, Drake stood and hastily opened the door. Both cats bolted out of the room and down the hallway. The young man went back over to the bed and continued opening the boxes. He tried to do it quickly because it made him nauseous just thinking about having to swallow down so many. He already felt like he was going to throw up. He'd have to-

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. He had no time to react before he saw Julio standing outside his door. The boy immediately saw the bright red pills.

"Wow, you actually lied to my brother." His voice was both monotone and bitter at the same time somehow. "Guess that means the old Drake is back and you'll be running off soon to get yourself killed."

He hadn't spoke to Julio since his party and he'd hardly spoken to him then. He'd just translated something in Spanish for him and the birthday boy had thanked him for the gift he'd received. Now he saw that Drake was back on drugs and he said something to make him feel bad, but he didn't try to stop him like he normally would've had they been on good terms. The young man's eyes soon landed on the bottle of whiskey Julio was trying to hide by his side. That was some audacity he had to put Drake down when he was practically doing the same thing. Not knowing what to do, Drake stood and closed his door right in his face. He was pretty sure that Julio wouldn't rat him out to Ricardo because he was probably too scared that he would do the same back.

Drake's addiction was taking over once again and Julio's was just beginning. Both were going through similar struggles, yet they hated each other for that. It was like they weren't even friends anymore, and just when they needed each other the most, too.

* * *

Drake opened his eyes when Hero pulled her lips away from him. It was stunning the way her brown skin glowed as the setting sun shined through the skylight above her bed and filled the room with an orange and pink tint.

He gently caressed her cheek with his fingers and she kissed his thumb when he brushed it across her full lips. "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

She let out a cute little laugh that only made him crave her more. "You have. Every time you're here."

"That's not enough," he said.

She was laying there next to him and she had no clothes on, but his eyes never left her eyes. He wasn't complimenting her body like most men, although she knew he appreciated that, too. He was looking deeper. She didn't know this, but he was high on Triple C's and he felt like he understood everything about her. Charlie had a way of doing that.

When she'd ended the kiss, she had planned on the two of them hopping into the shower and then figuring out dinner, but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She nudged her head into the crook of his neck and he planted a couple soft kisses on the top of her head while giving her a tight squeeze, then he just held her. After her husband's unexpected death, she'd given herself a lot of time to heal before jumping back into the dating scene. It was hard to start over. She'd built a whole life with this man. One day, he was there and the next day, he was just...gone. Every man she met was a one-and-done kind of guy. They'd meet up, have sex, then they'd never speak to one another again. Drake was different. He didn't leave after getting what every other guy seemed to want. Like right now, he could easily slip on his clothes and walk out the front door and out of her life forever, but he stayed. He seemed to know everything she needed. He said the right words. He held her when she needed to be held. It's like he knew her inside and out and the only other person who had contained that knowledge was her husband. She was beginning to have feelings for the twenty-two year old guy she'd met in the mental hospital just weeks ago and this made her feel guilty. This was the first time she had felt any sort of emotional attachment towards another man besides her husband and it scared her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Drake asked softly when he heard her sniffle.

"I just miss him so much," she said through her weeping.

The boy pulled her so close to himself that there was no gap between them. He held on tighter and slid his fingertips up and down her spine. "I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

They stayed that way for a long time with their limbs intertwined like that. He didn't display any jealousy or anger or bitterness. He only spoke kind and comforting words to her and she knew that he meant them. At such a young age, he understood loss. He was wise beyond his years.

"I don't want to be alone," she said. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Of course."

* * *

Drake looked at the clock, which read 10:03, then he looked at Hero, who was fast asleep. As gently as he could, he lifted her head with one hand so that he could slide his trapped arm out from underneath it. Once that was done, he slowly sat up, then stopped halfway when he saw her move. However, she was only repositioning herself while she slept. He got out of bed, then grabbed his backpack and tiptoed into her bathroom. He closed the door behind himself, then pulled open his bag and found a couple boxes of Triple C's. He was just going to take one since he was still feeling the effects of the last one. He swallowed the twenty-four pills down with sink water, then decided to shower. He was already naked, so he got right in, his body so numb that the freezing droplets that fell before it had time to heat were actually bearable. He cleaned himself off and washed his hair, then got out and dried off. His high still hadn't hit and it probably wouldn't for another thirty minutes or so.

The young man went back into the bedroom quietly and saw Hero still asleep like he'd left her. He'd found a robe hanging up on the closet door in the bathroom, so he slipped that on. Drake gathered up the clothes they had taken off earlier that day and took them downstairs to the laundry room, then he took some of his clean clothes out of the dryer and folded them. He left those in the bedroom so that he could wear them in the morning, then he grabbed his cigarettes and quietly opened the sliding glass door in her bedroom. It led to a small concrete slab that acted like a back porch, but there wasn't much going on. There was a circular table with three chairs and a grill that looked as if it hadn't been used in quite some time. He took a seat, then lit up his cigarette.

Drake chain-smoked a few, snuck inside to throw up, brushed his teeth, then crawled back into bed so that he could cuddle with Hero and hallucinate that he was anywhere he chose to be.

"Mm, youokay?" the tired woman slurred when she felt him wrap his arms around her to spoon her.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Just went outside for a smoke."

She craned her neck so that he could give her a quick peck on the lips, then she snuggled into him and was asleep in seconds.

* * *

When Drake opened his eyes, he saw that Hero was already awake and scrolling through Pinterest on her phone. His eyes were somewhat blurry from tiredness, but it looked like she was browsing through healthy recipes. He kissed her bare shoulder to let her know that he was awake, then she put her phone down and turned around to face him.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning."

They shared a quick kiss.

"Have you been awake long?" The clock said 7:36, but it didn't surprise him that he was up so early despite going to bed so late. On Triple C's, when he went to sleep, he didn't actually go to sleep...not completely. He wasn't awake either, though. It was like a dream, but more vivid, like a hallucination. It was like he was both asleep and awake at the same time, but also neither. It was rather uncomfortable actually. He couldn't sleep; he couldn't stay awake.

"Not long. Maybe thirty minutes."

"How are you feeling?" He was referring to last night's breakdown.

"Better. I appreciate you staying." She placed her hand on his cheek and gave him a grateful smile. "You hungry?"

"Lemme take you out somewhere. You want Waffle House?"

Technically, he didn't have a job, but Mrs. Hayfer had asked Drake if he'd come cut her grass every other weekend and she'd pay him. The first day he did this, one of her elderly neighbors asked if he'd take care of her lawn as well and he said he would. The next time he came, he had three other neighbors, also senior citizens and probably friends with the first lady, approach him about lawn care, so every other Saturday, he went to his former teacher's neighborhood and cut grass for a good portion of the day, but he didn't mind. It was one day of work and he made sixty dollars per yard. That was three hundred dollars every other week, which definitely helped him afford the cough medicine, cigarettes and whatever else he needed.

"Waffle House sounds good. We'll shower and then we'll go."

Hero sat up, then grabbed her pill container that had the first letter of every weekday on each of the seven lids. She lifted the one that said F, then swallowed the antidepressant given to her at the mental hospital.

"Don't forget your medicine." Somehow, she was both joking and serious at the same time. She just couldn't get over the fact that she'd met Drake in a mental hospital of all places.

She got up and Drake watched her as she walked to her bathroom, unashamed of her nudity. His arm was asleep since she had been laying on it all night — not just regular asleep, but painfully asleep. He heard the shower water running and forced himself out of bed. He took his prescription while he had it on his brain, then massaged his arm as he made his way into the bathroom. They both brushed their teeth before they got in the shower in case things got intimate. After their shower, they got dressed and headed for Waffle House.

* * *

As Drake opened the front door, he lifted his arm and wiped the sweat from his forehead, then he made his way to the kitchen, following the scent of food. It was hot in here, too.

"You finished?" Mrs. Hayfer asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dinner's almost ready."

After Drake got out of the hospital, Mrs. Hayfer started inviting him — and the Santos brothers whenever they were free — over to her house for dinner every Saturday. Now that Drake spent most of the day on her street, she fed him lunch _and_ dinner. Luckily, her husband was usually away for work on Saturdays. Garrett wasn't as mean as he had been the first day he'd met him, but it was just awkward for both of them to see each other after the truck stop incident. Mrs. Hayfer was almost like a mother to him, but her husband could never be like his father — not after Drake had touched himself in front of him. Everything since Drake's and his former math teacher's unexpected friendship had began was still new and strange and everyone was still healing.

When Alice gave him a glass of water, he said, "Thank you." He was out of breath and exhausted. "Do you mind if I shower?"

"No, go right ahead. The clothes you left here last time are clean and folded on the shelf in the laundry room.

Drake grabbed his change of clothes, took a quick shower, got dressed and put his dirty clothes in the laundry room hamper. Alice always insisted on washing them for him. When he returned to the kitchen, she was placing a large dish on the table. The young man knew his way around her house enough to know where she kept the dishes and silverware, so he grabbed two plates and some eating utensils and helped her set the table.

Surprisingly, Drake hadn't taken any Triple C's today, but he was still feeling the effects from his recent non-stop binge. He was completely wiped out and he was desperate for a good night's sleep. He'd been walking around with dark circles under his heavy eyes for days now and he was starting to do and say strange things that drew in suspicion from Ricardo. Plus, he was losing weight fast and he needed to get control of that. Still, he wasn't hungry, but he didn't dare refuse the food that Mrs. Hayfer cooked.

Once the table was prepared and they were in their seats, Alice started with prayer. Drake bowed his head politely and repeated her, "Amen," when she was done. Next, they dug in.

"How's your summer going?" the boy asked. He took a bite of the mashed potatoes.

"It's going well. I've had a lot of extra free time to relax and take up old hobbies."

"Like what?"

"I used to play the violin when I was younger, so I pulled that out of the closet and I've been playing the piano some here and there."

"I didn't know you could play music."

"It was a long time ago. I've forgotten a lot, so I'm reteaching myself. What about you? Have you been playing your music lately?"

He shook his head as he swallowed the potatoes. He always stuck to eating one food on his plate instead of going back and forth between potatoes and bread and meatloaf like Mrs. Hayfer. "It's just hard to pick up a guitar again after the last time."

"What happened last time?"

"Julio asked me to play this gig with him a few months ago. It was at this venue we performed at regularly back in high school and the owner said he'd get the word out that we were doing a set to draw the old crowd in. I didn't really wanna do it because I was a mess back then. I'd get high on stage and I don't even know what I did half the time, but the audience loved it. I didn't wanna let Julio down, though, so I did it, but I guess everyone was expecting me to be that drug-fueled guy I was in high school and this was after you took me home and I got clean. Someone threw a box of cough medicine on stage and then everyone was yelling at me to take them. I just walked off stage in the middle of the song and had a panic attack, then I left and bought a couple boxes, but I told Ricardo and he talked me through it."

"And these were your fellow classmates?"

"Most of them."

Alice was surprised that so many people seemed to know about Drake's drug addiction early on and had egged him on rather than brought it to an adult's attention. Someone could've intervened long ago before things had gotten so bad.

"I guess that just really discouraged me," Drake continue. "I felt like they never liked us for our music. They just wanted to see me ruin my life and they thought I was cool for it." He was quiet for a moment as he dragged his fork through the mashed potatoes in one direction, then he did this again perpendicular to the other three lines to make a grid. "Now they're all out of college and moving on to their dream jobs and I'm still here, struggling with the same problems and using up all my time fighting my addiction when I could be — I don't know — in college or starting a career or whatever. It's not cool anymore when you get older and you're the one that has to live with all the choices you've made."

Mrs. Hayfer felt pride when she heard him say that. It meant that he was learning a lesson. It was a hard lesson, but it showed progress. It showed growth.

"I'm not gonna pretend that I know what you're going through," she said, "but I have total and complete faith that you can overcome this addiction and rise above it." She placed her hand on his forearm so that he'd pay attention and he noticed their matching bracelets. "I believe in you."

The young man lifted his eyes to meet hers and his heart filled with warmth. He'd felt so numb since his relapse, but now he remembered why he had gotten clean in the first place. Why am I doing this _again_?

"Mrs. Hayfer?" his voice cracked.

She saw his eyes water over before he hung his head. Her brows furrowed with confusion and concern. "What's wrong, Drake?"

He wiped away the tears that started falling, but more followed. Guilt overwhelmed him. He sniffled again. "I..." It was always so hard to admit. "I started using again."

He couldn't see her, so he wasn't sure how she was reacting, but he assumed that she was pretty angry based on her silence. He rested his forehead on the palms of both hands as he continued to weep. Despite what he was thinking, she wasn't angry at all. In fact, she was happy that he was confiding in her. However, she wasn't sure what to say. She hadn't been able to help her son. How was she supposed to help Drake? Her heart ripped in half as she watched him. Back in her class in high school, he had acted like this happy-go-lucky kid and now, three years later, he was sitting at her dinner table broken, defeated and scared.

His voice came out octaves higher when he spoke again. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Drake, _nothing_ is wrong with you." She scooted her chair closer, then pulled him against her and wrapped her arms around him like she used to do when a young Daniel had woken up screaming from night terrors. She repeated herself to drill this into his head. "Nothing is wrong with you."

"I can't stop," he said in between his sobs. "I wanna stop, but I can't."

* * *

"Hey," Alice greeted kindly as she closed the door behind Ricardo. "How was work?"

"Pretty hectic. I'm just glad I'm not working overnight. Saturdays are always busy."

"Are you hungry? I have some leftovers in the fridge."

"No, ma'am. Thank you, though. I had pizza from last night that I ate on break."

She led him to the living room, where he found his friend sitting on the couch.

"Hey, Drake." He started to notice that the young man's head was pointed towards the floor like it often was when he had something on his mind. "You okay?"

"Um," he said too quietly, then he raised his volume, but only slightly. "I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" He furrowed his brows with concern.

"I've been lying to you." He really hated himself right now, but Mrs. Hayfer was present and that made him feel like he had some support.

"About what?"

He hesitated. "I relapsed."

"Again?" It came out with a sad tone. He took a seat next to his friend on the couch, but Drake still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Kinda."

"What does that mean, Drake?" he prodded with a soft, kind voice.

"I never really..." He sighed with disappointment. "I never really stopped using...once I started."

"When did you start?"

"A week ago," he admitted feebly. "That day I told you I saw Clementine."

Silence. Of course.

"I'm sorry." His voice cracked. He was crying again.

"You've been using everyday?" he asked, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together and make sense of everything.

Drake nodded.

"So when you went to work with me and made all these promises about getting clean...?"

"I got high in your office," he admitted with shame. "I'm sorry."

More silence.

"I'm sorry," he begged pathetically.

"I thought we promised to be honest with each other."

He hated that he couldn't think of anything to say other than, "I'm sorry."

"So where do we go from here, Drake?"

"I'll clean up for real this time."

"How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe anything you say?" He wasn't angry. He just genuinely didn't know how he could help if he was going to be lied to about everything.

The young man sniffled. He looked up at Mrs. Hayfer for guidance with the most pitiful, childlike expression she had ever seen.

The woman sat down on the edge of her recliner and turned her body towards the two boys. "Maybe you can agree to let him do random searches of your bag and your room," she suggested.

"Okay."

"What about when you take the pills before you get home?" Ricardo asked.

Drake gave it some thought. "When I get my grass-cutting money, you can deposit it into your bank account so I have to go through you to buy something and you'll always know if I'm telling the truth because they keep a list of how much was spent and where it was spent," he said, "and I'll keep all my receipts so you know I didn't buy cough medicine if I go to a store that sells it."

"I guess that'll work." He sighed. "I just hate that it's come to this."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm glad you told me now, though. I know the truth isn't always the easiest." He stood. "Are you ready to go home?"

The two told Alice goodbye, then got in the car and started down the street. They stayed silent for a long time other than Drake's constant sniffling. His brain was already trying to convince him of things that would only make matters worse and it was really hard to fight those thoughts right now.

"Please don't hate me," he begged.

"Look at me. I could never hate you, okay?"

"You're mad."

"I'm not mad. I'm just..."

"Disappointed."

"I just need time. I understand the relapse. It's just hard to forget because you lied to me." He turned the car onto their street.

"I'm sorry."

"Are you really dating someone or are you out getting high at the park or something?"

"I've been sleeping with someone, but it's just casual. Well, we're more than friends with benefits, but we're not putting a label on it. I just didn't tell you because I thought you would freak out about the age difference."

"How old is she?"

"Do you remember Hero from the mental hospital?"

He did because Drake had pointed her out to him during his second visit and Ricardo had listened to him gush about her for about ten minutes straight. "You're sleeping with her?"

"Yeah."

"Does she use drugs?"

"No. None," Drake said honestly.

"Does she know that you do?"

"She knows that I struggled with addiction before going to the mental hospital, but she doesn't know I've still been using."

"Is there anything else you've been lying about or hiding?" Ricardo didn't ask this in a bitter way. He was keeping calm, cool and collected because that would make Drake feel relaxed enough to open up.

The first thing that came to mind was how his relationship with Julio was, but he couldn't tell him that because the reason things were so rocky between them was due to Julio's growing alcoholism and their different stances on it. He couldn't tattle on his friend. That would only make things worse.

"Um, well, remember the morning after my birthday when you sat me down to discuss the relapse?" Drake started. He had something he needed to get off his chest. "Well, that was all true. I did talk to Dee and I told him everything and he said he wanted to try to work things out, but that's not why I used. I was using daily before then. I only said that to make you feel guilty so that you wouldn't blame me, but it's not your fault and I'm a complete dick for manipulating your emotions like that. I fucking suck. I'm sorry."

Ricardo was clearly hurt, but he had to keep reminding himself that drugs turned Drake into a different person. He truly believed addiction to be a disease despite the controversy. The symptoms are just different than other diseases because they include behavioral changes, which aren't the norm. Symptoms of addiction can include deception, thievery, prostitution even. It's not like Drake _want_ ed to do those things. Sometimes it just felt like he _had_ to.

"I appreciate the honesty." He said it almost like a robot — like it was something he had to say.

"It's okay to be mad at me," Drake said through his tears. "You have every right to be mad at me."

"What good is that gonna do, Drake? It's not gonna help anything." Ricardo pulled into the driveway, then turned off the vehicle, but he didn't get out.

"You don't have to bottle up your feelings for my sake. If you wanna yell at me, it's okay. I deserve it."

"I'm not gonna yell at you." This only made Drake feel worse.

"You've always done everything for me and I betrayed your trust and it upset you and you don't have to pretend it didn't. I always thought we were fine, but we're not. I appreciate you always being there, but I haven't been there for you."

Drake hadn't been there for Julio either. His friend had been right when he'd yelled at him in the hospital. Drake was constantly ruining his life and no one could get mad at him for it because of what his dad did to him. Ricardo refused to yell at him because he knew that it would give the boy flashbacks and that wasn't fair. After all the times Drake had poured his heart out to him, he shouldn't have to close himself off to make Drake feel better, especially when it was tearing Ricky apart inside.

"I'm not gonna fight with you."

"We don't have to fight."

"You just want me to lose my temper and scream at you because you think you deserve it — like you're trying to find a replacement for your dad or Dahlia or something — and I'm not gonna do it."

"I just don't want you to feel like you can't get mad at me. You're allowed to yell at me," the boy said. "It's okay. I can take it. Tell me off. I know you want to."

"And say what, Drake?!" Ricardo snapped. due to his friend's pestering. "That I'm pissed you relapsed? That I can't believe, after _every_ thing, you lied to me? That no matter how much I try to understand, I _still_ don't understand? That I wish you would just be content with being sober? That I'm just so tired and frustrated and scared? That, _for once_ , I would like to not have to worry about you? Is that what you wanna hear?"

Drake stayed silent as he watched Ricardo slide his fingers over the grooves on the keys in his lap. The man shook his head and chuckled harshly, then he sniffled. His friend could see water building up in his eyes. It wasn't often that Ricky cried. Drake could probably count on one hand how many times he had seen him shed a tear. He was always the strong one of the group and no one every checked on him. It was time for people to start checking on him.

"Drake-" His voice cracked, so he paused and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat before starting again. "Drake, I don't know what to do anymore. Nothing is working. Things just keep getting worse and worse and every time you relapse, you get closer and closer to dying. I can't. Handle. Losing you. You mean too much to me. I just don't know how I'm supposed to help you, especially when you're not doing anything to help yourself."

Drake didn't have anything to say. He didn't ask Ricardo to be honest with him so that he could reply or explain or apologize. He asked to listen. When his friend was done, the young man leaned towards him and wrapped his arms around him. Ricky hugged back. They stayed like this for a long time, the only sound between them being their occasional sniffles. Drake was first to break the silence.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" he promised. "I'm not going anywhere anymore."

For the first time in his life, his voice displayed confidence and this is the first time Ricardo had ever _actually_ believed that everything was going to be okay. Drake had made these promises thousands of times before and he'd always meant them at the time. There was something different about the way he said it now, though. He was done being this person. He was done hurting his friends. He was done hurting himself.

Ricardo held on tighter as his tears finally started to fall. "Okay."

* * *

 **Author's Note: First, I wanna start off by thanking the guest who reviewed last chapter. Thanks for taking the time to respond. I actually never even thought about what you said with Drake and Theo's friendship centering around more serious topics even though both Rhinestone and Ricardo have suffered from sexual abuse as well, but your prediction was right. I like to write a couple chapters ahead before I post things and the Theo scenes have involved heavy topics, although not exclusively, and I didn't even realize it or mean to do it, but it totally makes sense. Also, the fact that you even remembered that Ricky and Rhinestone suffered from sexual abuse blows my mind, unless I mentioned it last chapter or something and forgot. Because that's stuff from Charlie Horse and even as far back as Charlie Freak, which I started about five years ago.**

 **So what did you guys think of Hero? Weird? Cute? Love it? Hate it? That boy has mommy issues fr, though, but that's cool. And fucking Clem's back. Bleh. I just feel like she wasn't gonna let Drake off his leash that easily. Since Drake's in this _Rent_ play, I'm not really sure how much detail about it I'll go into. I'll try to explain it as much as possible in as few words as possible because I know that stuff gets tedious to read, but I would totally recommend watching _Rent: Filmed Live On Broadway_ or even just the movie _Rent_ because it's super meaningful and also it'll give you more insight as to what Drake's doing if you actually care that much about that.**

 **Also, I'm not fluent in Spanish at all, so if y'all catch any mistakes with that, lemme know. I usually use Google Translate (which can be so inaccurate) and then have my Spanish-speaking friend go over it. Hopefully, everything sounds and flows like a normal conversation, but lemme know if not.**

 **The songs used in this chapter are _Seasons Of Love_ by the cast of Rent and _Rad Drugz_ by Missio in case anyone cares about that kinda stuff.**

 **COMING UP ON SORRY, CHARLIE: Basically, we're gonna focus on what's been going on with Julio in the next chapter, which I'm excited for. Finally, Julio gets his time to shine. I feel like I haven't utilized Julio's character anywhere near as much as I wanted. He was supposed to be a big character in the first story, but then I created Ricardo and hardly wrote for Julio at all. Now he's a main character and still hardly gets his own moments, so I'm pumped for that.**

 **Like always, please review. I only got one last chapter, so I'm not sure if that meant that chapter about the mental hospital wasn't well-liked or are things going in some weird direction? Lemme know. Also, I know I said Kenzly was returning forever ago, _but_ I'm for real this time. She's definitely making an appearance in an upcoming chapter because I literally just wrote it, so I'm a hundred percent sure this time. Lemme know if there's anything else you guys wanna see. I literally have no idea how this story's gonna end. The first two stories had eighteen and twenty chapters and this is the twelfth chapter for this story. Plus, I've already written chapters thirteen and fourteen and part of fifteen and I have no ending direction at all. This could potentially be the end of the series just because I can't think of anymore titles using the name Charlie. Ha ha. It might not be because I'm having a really hard time letting this story go, but let's pretend it is the end. Is there anything you wanna see happen that I might not be thinking about? Anyway, blah, blah, blah. All I do it ramble. Please review. CCC ya!**


	13. Best F(r)iends

2:01. It was 2:01 a.m. and he was still sitting here boo-hooing about not having any drugs in his body to put him to sleep. He had tried everything: playing soft music, reading until his eyes burned, counting sheep, attempting to clear his mind, jerking off, taking NyQuil — the recommended dose, mind you — and nothing was working. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Charlie and he knew that tonight wouldn't be the end of it. This same process would repeat itself tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. When he'd first gotten sober three years ago, he'd cried every night for a month straight. He spent a lot of nights in Ricardo's bed and vice versa. Ricky had offered to bunk with him tonight, but Drake had declined. He wanted to do this himself this time. If he cleaned up all on his own, maybe he'd think twice before relapsing next time. Maybe he'd take pride in himself knowing that he had been strong enough to do something good for a change.

However, this was only night one and he was already struggling. Macaulay was asleep on his lap and Agent Jack Bauer was circling him, switching between wanting to be petted and wanting to be played with roughly. Drake wasn't in the mood for either, but he half-assed it because the last thing he needed was to feel like he'd disappointed a fucking cat. He thought about tip-toeing down the hallway and sneaking into Ricardo's room to take him up on that offer. He was so desperate for fucking sleep. He hadn't slept well — if at all — since he'd started using a week ago.

Drake cursed as he picked up Macaulay, waking her, and moved her out of his lap. He stood, then slipped on a long-sleeved sweater and his tennis shoes. He made his way downstairs as quietly as possible. Slowly, he turned the lock and twisted the knob to open the door, then he stepped outside. It was sticky and warm and mosquitoes and moths were everywhere, so despite how sweaty the temperature and humidity made him, he had to keep every inch of his body covered so that he wouldn't get bitten. Growing up, he would always get eaten up by mosquitoes every time he stepped outside. His mother had always said it was because he was so sweet. He wondered what his mom was doing now and if she'd still think that about him. He doubted it.

As the young man picked up his pack of cigarettes and lit one, he thought about how ashamed his family had been of him and he pondered how much greater that shame would be if they knew even just half the things he had done since he'd left. If they could see him now, they'd feel that the decision to kick him out was validated. Still, after all this fucking time, he was just as hopelessly addicted to those stupid fucking red pills as he was three years ago.

Nothing was changing. He wasn't changing. He was wasting everyone's time and energy. He was wasting poor Ricardo's time and energy. He pondered where the man would've been in life had he not had to deal with Drake and his stupid fucking problems. And fucking Julio. Three and a half years ago, he had refused to drink with Drake at a party. Now he was an alcoholic. Sure, it wasn't all Drake's fault. The boy struggled with his own depression and anxiety issues, but the drug addict's bullshit sure didn't help. Everyone would be better off without him.

With that thought, Drake pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his heels against the edge of his chair. He choked out a sob and rested his head against the side of his hand tiredly like he had a headache. He knew he needed to stop thinking like this, but that was impossible without Charlie. This is who he was when he wasn't high. He was depressed and nervous and he laid in bed all day obsessing over every single bad thing he could think of and it felt so impossible to stop.

As his crying picked up, he grabbed a fistful of his own hair and squeezed because any physical pain would've been better than the emotional torture he was suffering through. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his heels. He couldn't even breathe in through his nose anymore because it was so stopped up, so he wiped the snot and tears away on the sleeve of his sweater.

Things never got any better that night. He stayed outside until he chain-smoked that entire pack of cigarettes and, even then, he remained in that chair sobbing. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but at some point, he had cried himself to sleep and he didn't even realize it until Ricardo woke him up around 7:30 the next morning.

"You alright?" He asked with concern. There was also relief in his voice, only because he had checked Drake's bedroom to find it empty and he'd thought that the boy had once again disappeared to get high.

Drake looked at his surroundings until he remembered where and why he was, then he turned towards his friend. "Yeah."

Ricardo could see how red and wet the young man's eyes still were. "Hard night?"

There was no use denying it. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry. You could've woken me up or laid down in my room."

"I know." He reached for his pack of cigarettes and found it to be empty. "Shit," he whispered to himself.

"You've got another pack on your dresser, right?"

"Yeah."

"I can get them for you."

"No, that's okay. I'll get 'em." He planted his feet on the porch's concrete floor and stood. His bones audibly popped and he ached all over. He was itching all over, too. Even with the shoes and his pajama pants and his sweater, he could still tell that the mosquitoes had somehow magically bit into his legs and arms. He hated fucking summer.

The young man slowly and stiffly ascended the staircase and retrieved his cigarettes and phone from his bedroom. He made a quick detour to the bathroom and relieved himself, then washed his hands and brushed his teeth before going back outside for a smoke.

The sky was that soft bluish-gray color it usually was when the sun was beginning to rise. It reminded him of school and waiting at the bus stop. He was always so tired right after he woke up, so he never talked to his friends in the morning. Instead, he'd put his earbuds in and listen to music. Back then, it was some emo punk rock stuff like Good Charlotte or Green Day or something, but now he preferred something more relaxing. He picked up his phone and searched through his YouTube playlist for something soft. He chose Sigur Rós' "Svefn-g-englar," which he'd heard when he'd watched _Beautiful Boy_. The light sounds filled his ears and when a voice began singing, he actually felt relaxed.

* * *

After his shower, Drake went downstairs to find that Ricardo had breakfast ready. He still wasn't quite fully recovered from the numbing effects that the Triple C's had on him, but he was desperate to taste _some_ thing, so he didn't mind eating despite not really caring to.

"Julio's got classes all day, so it's just gonna be me and you today."

Sadly, this was a relief. "Did you tell him?" He was asking if they had talked about his latest relapse and if Julio had admitted to already knowing about it.

"Yeah, I talked to him last night. He supports you, like always."

If only that were true...

"So anyway, I thought we could do something together today. We can do movies or something here or go out somewhere."

"I'd rather stay home."

"I figured. Are you up for movie marathons and Netflix binges today?"

Part of him was. He missed times like this that he used to share with Ricardo. However, part of him just wanted to isolate himself in his room and succumb to his misery.

He decided that agreeing to Ricardo's plans would be best for everybody. "Yeah."

* * *

"What the fuck did I just watch?" Ricardo asked when the movie ended.

They'd put in _Climax_ and it had turned out to be nothing like the man had expected. It started out with a lot of dancing, then there was a lot of talking in mostly French, then there was a lot of screaming. Drake had informed him he'd seen a review of the film that had described it as "brilliantly deranged." The deranged part made complete sense, but the brilliant part?

"That was fucking dope," the younger of the two said. "Thanks for getting it for me."

Just like in the other DVD he'd bought for Drake, there was an attempted rape scene. Upon seeing it, Ricardo was internally kicking himself. How could two out of the three movies he'd gifted to his friend for his birthday include sexual assault? Who knows? Maybe the third one does, too, though it seemed unlikely because it was about a man being alone with a robot on the moon as far as he knew. Still, _High Life_ was supposed to be about a father and daughter in outer space and **Climax** was supposed to be a flick about a bad acid trip. However, as long as Drake liked them, then it was okay, he supposed.

"You actually liked that?"

"You didn't?" This seemed to confuse the young man. "Oh... Well, I guess I can see how it might not appeal to some people."

"It was just hard to watch," he said. "And it was based on a true story?"

" _Loose_ ly based."

The man scooted up towards the edge of the couch and browsed through the DVD cases strewn on top of the coffee table. "Look, I'm picking the next one, okay?" After a minute, he showed one to Drake. "This is the one Sawyer got you?" _Whiplash._

"Yeah."

"Does he have good taste?"

"He likes _Rocky Horror_."

Ricardo liked that one, too. "Alright, I guess I'll give this one a shot."

"I'll put it in. I need to get something to drink." His mouth felt dry and his stomach still felt hollow despite his breakfast. Drake got up and took the _Climax_ disc out of the PlayStation 4 and exchanged it with _Whiplash_. "You want anything?" he asked as he put the movie back in its case.

"A water, please."

The young man disappeared for a couple minutes before returning with a bottle of water and a glass of apple juice.

"Thanks," Ricardo said, then he started the movie.

* * *

"Did you like that one?" Drake asked when the end credits rolled.

"It was pretty good. Better than the last one for sure. Did you like it?"

"I loved it. It kinda similar to Aronofsky's _Black Swan_ in a way." Aronofsky: Drake's favorite director who directed his favorite movie _Requiem For A Dream_.

"Have I seen that one?"

"If you can't remember whether or not you've seen it, then you haven't seen it."

"I'm getting kinda hungry," Ricardo said right as his phone began to ring. "Are you about ready for lunch?" He picked up his cell phone from the pile of movies on the coffee table and he felt his heart skip a beat when he saw who was calling: Dee.

Drake saw this, too. He was wondering when Dee would call. He'd probably been waiting for a time when he wasn't busy with work or rehearsals.

"Hey," Ricardo said, then a bit too eagerly, "No, I'm not at work... I'm-I'm doing alright. How are you?... Yeah, I know how that is... Yeah?..." His voice came out much softer and he sounded vulnerable when he admitted, "...I miss you, too... Yeah, me, too... O-okay, yeah, I'd like that. When?... Oh, today?"

Drake could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was obvious that Dee had asked if the two could meet up. Ricardo was troubled by this and the young man knew it was because of his recent relapse. Ricky didn't want to leave him alone when he was just beginning the process of recovery. He'd already made plans to watch movies with him all day. This was the kind of behavior that had led to their break-up in the first place.

"It's okay," Drake whispered. "Go."

Ricardo looked at him and covered the speaker with his hand. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Go!"

He hesitated to contemplate this further, but he gave in. "Okay, yeah," he said to his ex-boyfriend. "Can we push it back a little, though? Like at five?... Okay. Okay, great! ...Yeah, I'll see you then. ...Okay. ...Okay. ...Bye."

Drake was smiling when the man hung up, but it wasn't nearly as big as Ricardo's wide grin.

"We're gonna get dinner and talk about things."

"That's good!"

"Yeah." He couldn't stop smiling even a little and he hated it.

"I'm really happy for you!" After a moment, Drake pulled his friend into a quick hug.

"Thanks for talking to him. I know I was asking for a lot from you—"

"It's okay." He pulled away and met his eyes. "It was worth it. And if my bullshit comes up, you can tell him everything. It's okay with me."

"Are you sure you trust him?"

" _You_ trust him," Drake said, "and I trust _you_."

Ricardo took in a breath and let it go and his eyes glinted with appreciation. "Thanks for all this."

"Hey, it's whatever. You better not fuck this up, though."

This made the man laugh.

* * *

Drake realized that Ricardo had pushed the time of his and Dee's dinner back a bit so that Julio could stay with the boy. Ha, as if Julio would even bother to stop him if he tried to use. The young man was determined to clean up and stay that way this time, though, so Julio or no Julio, he was staying sober.

"Is this too much?" the older Santos brother asked with little confidence.

"No, dude. You look great," Drake said reassuringly.

Ricardo let go of his breath slowly as he examined his reflection. "I just need to chill."

"Absolutely."

"Okay. It's all gonna go fine," he told himself.

"Right," said Drake, "but look, I've been thinking about this."

At the sound of his sudden serious demeanor, Ricardo turned away from the mirror and looked at him with curious, furrowed brows.

"Even if things go well tonight, they're just gonna get messed up again if you and I don't make some changes in our own relationship."

His forehead crinkled even more. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean..." What did he mean? "It's like, if you spend too much of your time worrying about me for whatever reason — even though he knows why you do it — it's still gonna push him away, you know, and that's gonna make him feel guilty because I'm just, like, one big sob story. Therefore, he might feel like he isn't allowed to ask for your attention because the last time he did, I was in the process of trying to kill myself and, if he can't talk to you about it and he can't leave without feeling guilty, he's gonna start to resent you for it."

"Wow, you _have_ thought about this," the man said. "So what, I'm just supposed to pretend I don't care?"

"No. No, not at all. Of course you care. You just can't let it consume you again."

"But if you do relapse—"

"I won't." Just like he did last night, he had that same confidence in his voice.

"But if you do?"

Drake enunciated his words so that they would stick in the man's head. " _I won't_ ," he vowed. "If I start to feel like I'm losing control, I know now that there are other people who care enough about me to try to stop me. There's Mrs. Hayfer. There's Sam and Brett. There's Gemini and Rhinestone and Sawyer. There's Julio." That one felt forced. "There's Hero and Theo. They've all got my back, but I'm gonna try really hard to rely on myself more. I need to learn how to beat this on my own, but if I do feel like I'm not strong enough, I have so many other people around me who are willing to be strong for me."

This made the corners of Ricardo's lips turn upwards in a smile. He hugged his friend.

"I can't fix what I've done, but I can stop breaking things even more. I'm done with drugs. I'm done with Charlie. For good. I promise."

"I'm so fucking proud of you."

For the first time in a long time, Drake felt proud of himself, too.

* * *

"-and since Zach and I are on opposite work schedules, we don't really have a lot of time to spend together. When I get off work, it's almost time for him to go _in_ to work. We hardly get to see each other."

Drake and Rhinestone hadn't spoken in a while due to all the things that had been going on lately in Drake's life and they were close to hitting their two-hour mark on this phone conversation.

"So I've been masturbating a lot. Like, _a lot_ a lot." Rhinestone was always so open about everything that things like this didn't even faze Drake anymore. "And then when Zach comes in from work and wants to have sex, I don't really wanna do it and that's been coming between us, so I said I'd stop and I have, but now — remember when I told you about about those cysts on my balls?"

"I remember."

"Well, I went to the doctor and they told me they could remove the cysts, but they'll just grow back." Rhinestone had already told him this before. He tended to do a lot of repeating, but it's probably because he talked so much that he could never remember what he said and who he said it to. "And there's, like, fifty of them and it gets worse in the summer because it's hot and they bust open and pus comes out and they hurt, then they get scabs all over, but they never heal because I can't stop picking them."

Drake genuinely felt bad for Rhinestone because that sounded like absolute hell.

"So when it's like that, I feel ugly, you know? I just wanna be left alone. He says he doesn't mind, but I do. I don't want anyone putting there mouth down there or anything else, so we haven't been fucking and he thinks it's because I've been masturbating while he's at work. He even put a camera in the garage."

"Jesus, he's seriously trying to catch you masturbating?"

"Yes!" He laughed, feeling validated that the boy was understanding his side.

Drake thought this was completely insane and unhealthy, but then again, those two words basically described his entire relationship with Dahlia. "Why in the garage, though?"

"I guess he thought I was jerking off when I go out to smoke."

The young man laughed. "That is just fucking...I don't even know."

"Right?!"

"Shit."

"He was just like, _'well, when I_ -"

 _THUMP! BUMP! THUMP! SLAM! BAM!_

"Shit, bruh, lemme call you back!" Drake didn't even wait for a response before he hung up and tossed his phone to the side. He hopped out of bed and yanked his door open, then he bolted down the staircase that led to the kitchen. When he turned the corner that was halfway down, he found Julio on the tile floor. "Jesus, dude! Did you fall down the fucking stairs?!" He got on his knees next to him. "Are you okay?!"

When he reached out to check for injuries, Julio roughly shoved his arm away. "Jus'fuckoff," he slurred.

"Bro, you're bleeding!" his friend exclaimed when he saw blood pooling up on the floor where his head was. Again, he tried to help and again, he was pushed. This time, it was hard enough to knock him on his ass.

"Fuckinleave MEALONE!"

"What the fuck?!" His nostrils filled with the scent of whiskey. "Bruh, how much have you had to drink?"

The only response he got was a low growl that Julio made as he forced himself onto his hands and knees. When Drake tried to offer his assistance again, he smacked his hand awake. "Getaway fromme!"

Drake could feel it bubbling inside of him. He felt the warmth in his eyes as they glazed over with saltwater and nightmares from his past. He couldn't let them take over, though. Not now. He tried to blink away the blurriness, but that didn't help, so he swiftly wiped his eyes and sniffled. Julio had managed to get onto his feet by the time the boy's vision cleared up. He stood, too, and it was just in time to catch his intoxicated friend before he took another spill. He managed to steady Julio, then he was immediately shoved against the wall with his shirt balled up in the boy's fists.

"Touchmeagainand IswearI'll FUCKINKILLYOU!"

Drake was trembling now. He was actually, genuinely terrified. His tears finally managed to fall down his cheeks. "Julio...?" he choked out, his voice dripping with confusion, hurt and betrayal.

He growled through his clenched teeth once again before letting the scared young man go, then he stumbled towards the entrance to the foyer, using the wall as support. This did little to aid him against his spinning vision and he, once again, found himself on the floor.

* * *

Once Brett was finished wiping away all of the blood that had streamed down to Julio's neck, he placed a bandage over the cut on his temple. It was surprisingly not as long or as deep as expected and there wasn't too much swelling. As he did this, his girlfriend pulled her hand away from his shoulder and turned towards Drake, who was leaning against the computer desk in the Santos boy's room. He was still weeping slightly and he hugged himself with one arm and had the other positioned so that he could bite his thumbnail.

She made her way over to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." It wasn't convincing, so he let his arms drop to his side and tried again. "Yeah."

Brett joined the two. He pulled out the rolling chair and sat in it backwards. "What happened?"

"I was in my room and I heard this loud noise and I found him at the bottom of the staircase." He couldn't meet either of their eyes. Instead, he looked down at the carpet, reliving the tragic events. "I tried to help him up, but he kept pushing me away and then he slung me against the wall and threatened to kill me."

"You know he'd never do that," Samantha said. "He didn't know what he was saying."

"He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you." She put her hand on his bicep.

"Yes, he does. He told me."

"When? Today?" Brett asked.

"No, back when I was in the hospital. He told me he hated me...and that I ruined his life." He choked out a sob and lifted the bottom of his palms to cover his eyes.

"It's okay," Sam soothed. She pulled him into a hug.

He didn't hug back, but he rested his head on her shoulder. His voice came out octaves higher when he said, "He's just like him."

He didn't need to specify who the "him" he was referring to was. They already knew. Martin Parker.

* * *

Drake was sitting on Julio's bed with his knees to his chest. He hadn't wanted to leave him alone in case something happened. He'd been crying in waves since Samantha and Brett had left. Everything that had transpired earlier left him desperate for Charlie's help. If he just swallowed those pills, all of this mental pain would be gone. However, he refused to give in. He didn't want to let Ricardo down. This was just such a bad fucking time to get sober.

It was nighttime, so when he saw lights shine through the window and across the walls of Julio's bedroom, he knew that Ricardo was back home. It was almost eleven. He and Dee must've had a lot to talk about.

Drake stood and left the room, closing the door behind him. He sniffled and wiped his eyes, but there was no hiding that he'd been crying. He made his way downstairs just as the front door opened and he took a seat on one of the steps.

"Hey." Ricardo's smile fell. "What's wrong?"

"I'm okay. Just fighting a craving." He didn't tell him about Julio because he felt like it was something Julio should tell him. "How was it?"

"It was good." He brushed off the question and instead went back to the drug conversation. "You wanna talk about it?" He sat down next to the boy.

"Not really. Did you two work things out?"

"Yeah, we did."

"So you're back together?"

"Yeah, but we're taking things slower this time. The whole time we were together, we never even went out on an actual date or anything, so we're supposed to have our first official date Wednesday."

"Nice." Drake sniffled and his friend turned his head towards him. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks had pink streaks crossing over them where the tears had stained them.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah."

"You wanna sleep in my room tonight?"

"No. I wanna try to do this on my own first."

"Okay. Well, my door's always open."

"I know. Thank you."

Ricardo stood and the boy followed. "Where's Julio?"

"He's asleep."

"I'm pretty exhausted myself. I'm about ready to pass out."

"I'm gonna lay down, too. Goodnight," Drake said. He went into his room and when he heard Ricky close his own bedroom door, he slipped back out and crept into Julio's room. This is where he was sleeping tonight...if he was even going to be able to sleep at all.

* * *

Drake managed to finally doze off hours later and he slept for about six hours, which was the longest he had slept in over a week. What woke him was the sound of Julio barfing. Luckily, he made the trash can that his friend had placed next to his bed. Drake curled up his back and stretched his muscles, then he straightened his legs out to stretch those. He always had to be careful with his legs, though, because he was prone to getting cramps in his calves when he did this.

The young man pushed himself out of bed and grabbed the bottle off Advil he had left on the floor next to him. He poured three onto his palm, then picked up his bottle of water, which was half empty. When it sounded like Julio was done throwing up, he held out the pills. "Here."

The hungover young man turned his body towards him quickly, for he hadn't noticed Drake's presence earlier. "Why the fuck are you in my room?" he groaned.

He left the question unanswered and moved his hand closer. Finally, Julio took the pills and tossed them in his mouth, but instead of accepting the water, he turned away and reached under his bed to retrieve a bottle that only had about a fourth of whiskey left. He turned it over his lips to swallow down the Advil, but then he kept drinking.

"Dude..."

Julio screwed the cap back onto the bottle. "Just leave me alone."

The young man just sat there with his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked down at his lap and stared at the yellow and black plaid pattern on his pajama pants. His was overcome by guilt as he thought about everything that had happened over the last six months and how all the chaos had taken a toll on Julio. He had put his friend in a constant state of worry. Every second he had spent away from him had made the boy obsess over the idea that maybe he'd never get to see him again. Living such a dangerous and risky lifestyle could mean death at any time. Julio had spent so much time wondering if his most recent conversation with Drake would be the last one he'd ever get to have with him. Drake knew what it was life to mourn a loved one who had passed, like Meelah and Martin, but he had no idea how it felt to mourn someone who was still alive.

Finally, he broke the tense silence. "I'm sorry I've been such a selfish, piece of shit friend. I never meant to ruin your life."

The sound of his voice gave Julio a headache, but it probably just had a lot to do with the hangover. "Why are you even here? Just get out."

"I'm worried about you."

"Wow, you're actually thinking about someone else for once in your life?" His venomous voice was dripping with bitterness.

His friend took it like a punch to the gut. "You really scared me yesterday."

If Julio were being honest, he didn't even remember yesterday.

Drake twiddled his thumbs nervously. "Your drinking's gotten pretty bad."

"And this is coming from _you_ of all people."

"I told Ricardo about my relapse and I've cleaned up again."

The boy only let out a harsh chuckle. "Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts. You'll be right back out there sucking that gym coach's dick in no time."

This made Drake tear up, his eyes hot with shame.

"Who the fuck are you to tell me when I'm drinking too much?"

"I'm your best friend."

"Ha! Yeah, right."

"Going down this road is such a bad idea. Do you wanna end up being the kind of person my dad was?"

This struck a nerve in Julio. "Get out."

"I just wanna-"

"I swear to God, Drake! Get out or I'll fucking—"

"What?" the boy interrupted, his voice losing its softness. "You'll kill me?"

Those words surprised Julio. He wasn't that person at all. He wasn't anything like Martin Parker. No matter how enraged he got, he didn't have a single murderous bone in his body. "Why would you even say that?"

"Because that's what you said to me when you threw me against the wall last night."

He was taken aback by this news and, honestly, it scared him, but he wasn't going to let Drake know that. "If you're not gonna leave, then I guess I will." He started to stand, but became light-headed, so he dizzily sat back down.

"Whatever, I'll go." His friend got up. "Wouldn't want you to fall down fucking stairs again."

At the mention of this, Julio suddenly took notice to the sharp pain on the side of his head. He waited until Drake was gone before getting up again. He steadied himself, then went over to his dresser and examined his reflection in the mirror. He had two white bandage strips over a cut on his temple. His face was cleaned up, but there was still a bit of blood on the collar of his shirt.

* * *

Ricardo tapped incredibly softly on the wood because he didn't expect Drake to be awake yet. He was surprised when he got a response.

"Yeah?"

He pushed the door open and found the boy leaning back against the headboard of his bed. He was surrounded by his kittens and had a thick book in his hand.

"You're reading again," he noticed. This was a promising sign that he was, in fact, still sober.

"Yeah."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I did actually. Why, do I still look like shit?"

"Just a little." He chuckled after Drake did. He'd missed that sound. "Hey, I'm gonna head out early to run some errands before work. I get off at six and I was just gonna pick up Wendy's for dinner because I've been craving a frosty. What do you want?

"A baconator."

"The combo?"

"Yeah. And some chicky nugs." He hadn't had much food over the past week, so like with his sleeping, he had a lot of eating to catch up on. He started to reach towards his nightstand to retrieve his wallet, but Ricardo stopped him.

"I got it. You get the next one."

"Okay."

"Oh, so like, my brother is mad grumpy this morning. He wouldn't tell me what he wanted, so when he mellows out later, can you ask him what he wants and text it to me?"

"Sure," but he doubted that he could get an answer out of him if Ricky couldn't.

"Alright, I'm leaving."

After he was gone, Drake got back to his book, but it wasn't long before his phone rang. He picked it up. Rhinestone.

"Hey."

"What the hell? You never called me back."

"Shit, I'm sorry. I totally forgot."

He made a noise like a scoff, but it was a joke and he made it obvious. "Gee, thanks."

"I just had a lot going on for a second."

"Where'd you go?"

"Julio fell and hit his head and then Brett and Sam came over for a while, then Ricky got back from his dinner with Dee."

"How'd that go? Did they work things out?"

"Yeah."

"Aw, that's great. I'm happy for him," he said, "because Dee's fine as hell."

Before he could go on asking more questions about Drake's life or about Julio falling, the young man said, "So where'd we leave off yesterday? You were talking about your balls?"

"Ugh! Yes! Oh my God, so-"

And just like that, they carried on with their mostly one-sided conversation, but he didn't mind that. He liked hearing Rhinestone's crazy stories, although it did get a little annoying when he started repeating things, like now for instance. He was giving Drake a recap of what he'd said yesterday, but the recap was basically the same exact story that took the same about of time to tell. Maybe Rhinestone wasn't used to having someone who listened, but his friend listened. Despite the things that had happened in the past, he truly loved Rhinestone. Drake had been the one who had reached out to reconnect after all. Maybe having a good listener wasn't it at all. Maybe Rhinestone was just desperate to share all of his thoughts and feelings and every little piece of his day because he needed to feel like it wasn't all for nothing. He needed to feel like he had people he could share it with — people who cared to know every personal detail. Drake could understand that. In a world where you are only what you post on social media — in Drake's case: almost nothing — being truly understood by someone was the most precious, valuable thing ever.

* * *

Drake sighed as he looked at the mess around him. He was putting together the bookshelf Mrs. Hayfer had gotten for him on his birthday and there were screws and bolts and planks of wood everywhere. It looked disorganized, but he knew exactly where everything was when he needed it. He actually enjoyed doing stuff like this. It was pretty calming in a way other than the pain that his back was in from all the hunching over. Also, he couldn't stop thinking about how much more fun this would've been if Charlie were here. He'd just sit there with extreme focus, blasting his music and struggling for twenty minutes to twist in one screw, but with zero cares.

He pushed himself out of the floor. He needed to take a break, get some water, smoke a cigarette — whatever. He just needed a change in scenery. He opened his bedroom door slowly because he wanted to make sure the cats weren't waiting in the hallway. He didn't want them in his room until all the nuts and bolts and such were where they should be. When he saw that he was in the clear, he stepped out and closed the door behind himself, then headed downstairs and went over to the refrigerator. Drake grabbed a bottle of water and drank thirstily. Finally, the effects from the Triple C's were gone and he could feel it hitting his stomach. He did miss the numbness, though.

He was there for about a minute or two before he heard more footsteps coming down the stairs. Julio. Once he was in sight, it was obvious that he was drunk. When he saw Drake, he rolled his eyes. He hated him so much that this was an involuntary reaction anytime he saw him.

Drake noticed that his friend didn't stop for food, which meant he hadn't come downstairs due to hunger. He then noticed that Julio had on his shoes. "Where are you going?"

The boy ignored him as he approached the island. Drake saw him eyeing his keys, so just as his intoxicated friend reached for them, he swiftly snatched them up.

"What the fuck? You can't drive right now."

"Gimmethefuckinkeys."

"Jesus, Julio, what-"

"Gimmethekeys."

"-the fuck is wrong-"

"GIVE ME THE GODDAMN KEYS!" He slammed his fists against the counter-top.

Drake instinctively flinched, then took a step back. His friend had rage in his eyes and it frightened him. An image of his father, with bloody knuckles and fire in his eyes, popped into his head, but he pushed it away. Now was not the time for that.

"Drake, give me thefuckinkeys!" He made his way around the island so that he could get them himself, but Drake mimicked him so that they had something in between them.

"What are you thinking? You can't drink and drive."

"Stop trying to tell me what I can and can't do! If I needed advice from a high school drop-out turned junkie turned prostitute, I'd ask you!" He always seemed to know what buttons to push to weaken Drake.

"Why are you doing this?" the young man begged. He knew exactly why, though. He'd seen the bottle upstairs and it had almost been out of whiskey. It probably was now and Julio needed more to keep the sickness off.

"Jus' gimmethekeys!"

"No."

"NOW!"

"No!" He wished Ricardo was here because Julio looked like he wanted to kill him.

"Why d'ya have ta keep interfering IN MY LIFE?!"

"Because I give a fuck about you!" he yelled back. "Jesus, _what_ are you doing? This isn't you."

"Youdon' knowwhat yerfuckin' talkin' about."

"Of course I do. I've been where you are."

"Exactly. I'vesaidthose exactwordstoyou. Ricardo'ssaidthose exactwords. Yourparents, yoursiblings, Meelah..."

That one stung.

"We allbeggedyouto stop using, butdidyouever listen? No. D'you reallythink I'm gonnastandhereand listentosomeonewho refusesto acknowledge thatfor 'emself?" He lifted his eyebrow as if waiting for Drake to answer him, then he shook his head. "No. How'sitfeel beingon theothersideofthis now — watchingsomeoneyoulove fuckuphisown life and not being able todoshit aboutit?"

Drake had no words because he was absolutely right and this filled him with guilt. Julio began making his way around the island now, but he never took his cold eyes off of his friend's wet ones.

"Iwasstandin' rightwhereyouare...once," he drunkenly continued, "an'youwere stan'in' right here before. Youofall people should know thatyou can't doanythin' tostop me, sojus'stoptrying 'causeit'sreallystartinto piss me off an' gimmethose fuckin'keys, alright?"

It was like looking into a mirror almost. Julio was right about everything he'd said and Drake's said a lot worse shit than that before when someone had tried to stand in between himself and Charlie. The only difference was that, until Ricardo had finally gotten involved, no one had been willing to put their time, energy and life on the line to pry those fucking keys out of Drake's hand. Unfortunately for Julio, Drake was the son of Martin Parker. He knew how to clench a tight fist. He. Was. Not. Giving up those keys.

"Over my dead body."

Julio's frustration came out when he screamed through gritted teeth. In a flash, he lunged for Drake and knocked him onto the floor with just one powerful punch to the jaw. He unleashed his fury on him, ignoring every protest. The boy's puny attempts at blocking his face were inefficient. He didn't punch back. He rarely punched back in times like these. Maybe that was something else he'd learned from his father. Stop. Drop. Roll. That's what you're supposed to do during a fire. Julio was a fire — small, but growing more and more as each day passed. Martin had been a giant, raging mass of hot flames. When the flames are right on top of you, burning your skin and boiling your blood, do you know how useless stopping, dropping and rolling is? When you're on fire and there's fire all around you, you're just gonna roll into more fire. Even still, that's what Drake always did. Stop. Stop back-talking or disobeying or doing whatever it was that had pissed his attacker off. Drop. Drop to the floor because the faster you get there, the faster your punishment will be over. Roll. Roll into a ball and shield yourself from as much damage as possible.

Stop.

Drop.

Roll.

Julio gave him one last punch, this one so hard that he had to place his hands on the kitchen floor to catch himself before completely falling on top of him. Drake's face was splotched with the redness of forming bruises and he had a few cuts that crimson liquid was oozing out of. His nose and lips were busted and when he winced in pain, he showed his teeth, which were outlined with blood. He let out a sob and blood splattered from his mouth and onto his chin. More sobs followed.

Still, when Julio tried to pry his fingers lose, he wouldn't give in. He squeezed so tightly that his nails and even the keys sliced open his skin, causing his palm to bleed.

"Gimme the keys!"

With his free hand, Drake reached back, trying to grab hold of whatever was nearby so that he could drag himself away. He clasped his fingers around the first thing he could — the leg of a stool — but it fell over when he pulled on it. "Fuck..." he choked out and more blood sprayed from his mouth. He thought he may have bit his tongue or something during the beating, but he was hurting so much all over his face that he couldn't actually differentiate whether or not this was true. However, he had so much blood in his mouth that he almost choked on it. When he coughed, it came out and landed on his cheek.

"Gimme the keys!" Julio furiously kicked the stool that was in the floor as if to warn Drake of what was to come if he didn't obey him.

Drake flinched, but he didn't give in. He fearfully gazed up at his friend, but his vision was invaded by black spots. He was going to pass out.

He saw the tennis shoe coming for him before it made a connection, so he had time to warn his body to cower away, but he still wasn't quick enough. "Aaahh-ha!" He was on his side now and more sobs left him. It became clear to him that Julio wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. "Guh!" he growled through clenched teeth and he rolled onto his stomach. He mustered up his strength and lifted up his torso, then his lower half soon followed and he was on his knees. Almost there.

Just before he could move any further, Julio stomped his foot down against Drake's lower back, flattening him against the tile floor again. "Let go OFTHEKEYS!"

The young man was audibly crying from deep within himself. This felt all too familiar. The tile floor beneath him disappeared and was replaced with the hard, cold concrete flooring in his father's basement. The kitchen light was gone and only a single light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling lit the room.

"No..." he begged. He was overcome with so much terror that he could feel his heartbeat in his fingers. His hands trembled and his breath quivered.

Julio mistook the boy's no as an answer to his command. "GODDAMN IT, DRAKE!"

There it was to complete the nightmare: Martin's monstrous voice. He felt completely paralyzed and a sob left him as the shoe pressed further into his back, keeping him pinned. He had no idea what was coming next and it scared him. Either he'd be hit or kicked or receive physical pain of some sort or his pajama pants and boxers would be ripped off of him and...

"Stop..." he pleaded tearfully. "I don't want this."

"Why do you have to-"

"I don't want this! I don't want this! I _don't_ want this!"

"Stop being so fucking difficult!"

Suddenly, Drake was yanked onto his feet and given a hard shove. He fell against the washing machine — no, kitchen counter. "Ow! Guh!" His jaw was still shut tight. He reached his free hand out to the right in search of the jug of laundry detergent. It was heavy and hitting his father once would daze him enough to give the boy time to escape. However, his fingers clasped...a faucet? He was spun around suddenly and instead of seeing the haunting face of Martin Parker, he saw, "Julio?"

"GIVEME THE KEYS!"

Once he could differentiate between reality and hallucination, he recalled the key in his hand. It was hard to see because his wasted friend was shaking him violently, but he moved his hand — the one holding the key this time — over to the sink.

"Don't!" Julio tried.

It was too late. Drake had dropped the key-chain down the drain. The boy immediately let him go, so he quickly turned on the faucet to make sure the keys didn't stop or get stuck. Julio yanked open the cabinet beneath the sink, then started twisting and tugging away the pipes. Water sprayed everywhere as he searched for his keys, but they were long gone. Drake started to clutch his sore face, but pulled his hand back as if it was fire. He saw dark crimson on his fingertips.

"Shit..." he whispered, then he spat a bloodied loogie onto the floor.

When Julio gave up, he glared at Drake. His friend hadn't thought it was possible, but he was even more enraged. He backed away as the drunk stood up. A pained screech left Julio, then he wound his fist back and slugged the boy who had betrayed him as hard as he possibly could.

* * *

Drake groaned and squeezed his eyes closed tighter as he came to. He lifted his hand and pressed the heel of his palm against his pounding forehead. "Mmmm..." he whined. When he opened his eyes, he found himself on the kitchen floor. He had no idea how he'd gotten here or how long he'd been here. He could recall his fight with Julio and he remembered dropping the car keys down the drain, but everything after that was gone.

He looked around and saw droplets of blood on the floor and the legs of his pants were soaked since his calves rested in the large puddle of water that was underneath the sink. There was no more water spraying out, but there were still a couple pipes missing. One was by his feet. He noticed that the other was up against the wall as if Julio had chucked it in his anger.

Drake rolled onto his side, then he started slowly pushing himself onto his hands and knees, then his feet. He immediately stumbled backwards, but the counter caught him. He felt so fucking dizzy. He took a few moments to steady himself before pushing away from the counter. His footsteps were sluggish and he wasn't sure where he was going. He immediately wanted to head upstairs and go to sleep, but then he thought about what Ricardo would think when he got home and found Drake and the kitchen this way. He needed to clean up, but then another thought hit him. _Where's Julio?_

The young man moved over to one of the windows and peered out. The driveway was empty.

"Son of a bitch..." he said under his breath.

Julio had a spare key due to the fact that his forgetfulness has led him on many occasions to lock his original key in the car. How could Drake have forgotten this? He needed to call him. He hated Drake and might not answer, but he had to try. He needed to know that the boy was okay. He'd left his phone upstairs, so he cautiously ascended to the second floor. About halfway up, he could just faintly hear his ringtone. Once he made it to his room, it stopped. Drake went over to his nightstand and picked up his cell phone.

 **5 missed calls**

He started to swipe to unlock his phone, but then it started ringing again. San Diego Corrections Facility. "What the fuck?" came out on a whisper. He answered the phone and agreed to accept the charges when the robotic voice said the caller's name was Julio.

"Hello?"

"Drake! Jesus, whythe fuck haven'you been answering your phone?!"

He was baffled that Julio even had the audacity to ask this, so he couldn't come up with a response.

Julio was already past it. "Look, canyoucome bailme outtajail?"

"What the fuck did you do?" he asked softly.

"Igot pulledoveran'he arrested me."

"Fuck, Julio. That was so fucking stupid."

"Look, are you gonna comegetme or not?!"

Obviously, he would. "Yeah. Hold on a sec." he went over to his computer desk in search of something to write with.

"And don't tellmybrother, okay? He'll kill me."

"You're not gonna tell Ricky?"

"No. So don't you dareeither!"

Drake had a pen and a piece of paper now. He learned over his desk. "Okay, do you see that list they got stuck to the wall by the phone?"

He knew that it was there because he had gone to jail for stealing Triple C's from Dollar General a few years ago. Mindy and Rhinestone had bailed him out. He never paid her back like he promised. That felt like a lifetime ago.

"Give me the phone numbers."

There were three there. They belonged to bondsmen. Going through one of them would mean he'd only have to pay ten percent of what the bail was. Julio read off the names and numbers.

"Have they talked to you yet about how much your bail's set at?"

"Five thousand."

"Fuck, Julio."

"Youonly haveto paya percentage, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't have five hundred dollars lying around either."

"Well, how much _do_ you have?"

He had just been paid a couple days ago for his grass-cutting and he still had a lot left over after cigarettes and other small things. "I have, like, two-sixty, but it's in Ricardo's account."

"Well, getit out."

"He's gonna ask what it's for and require receipts. We set up this new way of doing things after my relapse so he knows what I'm spending my money on."

"Fuck."

"You don't have any money?"

"Not really. Just the little bitI hadinmy wallet, which wouldhardly makea dent."

"I thought you had money saved up on your debit card from school."

"I flunkedouttaschool."

"What the fuck? When?"

"Doesit matter? Look, Ican'tbeon the phone forever."

"Alright." Drake sighed as he searched his aching brain for some sort of solution. "Alright, let me try to get up some money. Call me back in, like, an hour, okay?"

"Just don'tellmy brother."

"I won't."

* * *

Drake was hunched over in the hard, uncomfortable chair and he held his head up with his hand. His face hurt and he had been so caught up in finding the money to bail Julio out of jail that he'd forgotten to take any Tylenol. Gemini had lent him four hundred, which he had saved up. He was really good about saving money. Drake swore he'd pay him back with interest. Rhinestone had sent him a money order with the rest.

Drake had never asked for such a substantial amount of money from them before, but he knew they'd help out. Back when they were together, Gem had bailed Rhinestone out of jail, too, and sometimes on the phone, Rhinestone would tell Drake when an old friend of his — his best friend Lilly — would borrow money. He sent her money all the time.

Still, he couldn't remember a time he'd asked them for more than the cost of a few boxes of Triple C's and that was a long time ago. He hated that Julio had put him in this position. How was he supposed to pay them back? He couldn't use his grass-cutting money because he'd promised Ricardo that he could monitor it. Maybe he could see if one of Mrs. Hayfer's neighbors knew anyone who needed lawn care. If he could just pick up an extra four yards, that would be almost half the money and that was something. He just wouldn't be able to see Hero on his last day off.

Drake lifted his head when he heard a heavy door open. A stern-looking man was walking Julio out and he motioned towards a desk. Julio went over and signed something, then Drake stood as he approached him. He seemed somewhat confused about the swelling and the bruises forming on his friend's face, but neither said anything about it. Instead, they walked to the car in silence, which wasn't broken until they were seated and pulling out of the parking lot.

"How'd you get the money?"

"I borrowed it from Gem and Rhinestone. They took the grant money back that they gave you when you quit school?" He was pissed and it kind of came out in his voice.

"No, I just spent it."

"Okay, so you blew all your cash on alcohol and you have no job, so now I'm gonna be stuck paying for this shit."

"Like you haven't been kept up by me and my brother for the past three years," Julio retorted.

Drake couldn't argue with that. Really, he couldn't argue with anything. He used to spend every dime on his addiction, too. Mindy had paid his bail and he'd never paid her back. Plus, his friend was right. The Santos brothers had kept him up while he worked through his mental health and addiction issues.

"Look, I'll come up with the money somehow, alright?" Now he asked the pressing question. "Did you tell my brother?"

"No, I didn't tell your brother, but he's definitely gonna want an explanation for why my face looks like this."

There was confusion in Julio's eyes before it dawned on him. I _did that._ "What are you gonna tell him?"

Drake was hurt that the boy's voice was filled with worry rather than guilt. "I don't know. We just had this whole discussion about honesty and I can't believe I've gotta lie to him for you."

"Just say you were jumped."

"Do you know how many times I've used that excuse?"

"So what's one more time?"

"Can you just shut the fuck up?"

Julio sat back in his seat and snarled. "You don't have to be such a dick."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Drake glanced at him incredulously, then put his eyes back on the road. He was driving Julio's car, which they'd had to pay to get out of impound. This had taken the last of the boy's school money.

"I fucking hate you."

"Well, I love you, Julio. I fucking love you to death," he snapped with a harsh voice. "I know I've been a piece of shit and I'm sorry. I'm sorry about all of it. I wish I could take back everything I did to hurt you and I hate myself for it. I should've let my dad kill me because I haven't made a single positive impact on anyone's life since then. All I do is cause stress and worry and chaos. I hurt everyone, but I especially hurt you. You're the best friend anyone could ever ask for and I fucking miss you," he said. "And I get it. You're drinking because you're trying to punish me and you're trying to punish yourself for all the shit you blame yourself for that literally has nothing to do with you. You can't choose whether you hate yourself or you hate me more, so you just plan on destroying yourself because you know that'll hurt us both. You want me to leave you alone and give up on you so you can just hate me even more, but I'm not gonna fucking do that. I'm not going anywhere, so you go ahead and get yourself all nice and fucked up. I can't stop you and I know that, and when you realize how big of a mistake you're making because addiction is _lifelong hell_ , I'll be right there waiting to go through all of the bullshit with you just like you've done for me. You're not getting rid of me that easy." Drake wasn't done. "But just understand me killing my dad and me being the cause of Meelah's death has fucked me up more than anything. It feels worse than all the fucking abuse and the rapes and the prostituting. _I_ did that. _I am_ a murderer. I don't want you to ever know what that feels like, but if you keep driving while intoxicated, you're gonna find out. Julio, that is so fucking stupid. I know you don't give a shit about yourself right now, but what if you hit someone and there's a kid in the car? Can you live with that? An innocent child? I killed a fucking abusive murderer/rapist in self-fucking-defense and it makes me sick to my stomach every time I think about it."

He caught a glimpse of Julio rolling his eyes and knew that his friend couldn't care less. He could understand that, though. He's been there. Even though Julio was too stubborn to care now, he'll remember this conversation later, just like Drake always had.

* * *

When the two boys got home, Julio was the first one inside. He was starving, so he headed straight for the kitchen, which was still a mess. He saw the knocked over stool, the blood splatters, the puddles of water, the scattered pipes.

Drake went straight for the laundry room and grabbed some towels. He started with the water. "Ricardo's gonna be home in twenty minutes."

Julio set the stool upright, then he started working on fixing the pipes because he figured that would take the longest. He wasn't exactly sure how to do it, but it couldn't be too hard, right? It was just two pipes. He glanced over his shoulder at Drake, who was wiping up his own blood with paper towels now. As he watched him, guilt started to set in. After he'd realized that he had beat him up, the memories had started coming back in quick flashes. He remembered lunging at him. He remembered Drake cowering. He remembered blood and he remembered tears. He remembered his friend suffering through it all just to prevent him from getting the keys and possibly killing himself or others. He remembered being so enraged when he'd dropped the keys into the drain. He remembered punching him as hard as he could, which was hard enough to knock Drake unconscious and leave him with a concussion. He knew the boy wouldn't say it, but in those moments, Julio had behaved just like his father had. He could no longer deny that. He wondered if Drake had suffered through a flashback during the beating. If so, how had he managed to muster the strength to get through it?

Despite his guilt, Julio was too stubborn to apologize, so he turned back to the pipes and kept his mouth shut.

* * *

"Jesus! What the hell?!" Ricardo set the brown bags full of Wendy's on the kitchen island and approached Drake with shock and concern. He lifted his friend's chin and tilted the boy's head to the right so that he could get a better look at the left side, where all the bruising was.

The injured young man pulled away. "I'm okay."

"What happened?!"

"I just — I was with this girl and she told me she was single, but then her boyfriend walked in." He was usually so good at lying, but this one felt so strange slipping off his tongue. He didn't think he sounded like he was telling the truth, but when he glanced up at Ricardo to gauge his reaction, it seemed like he believed him. This made him feel extra guilty and he wished he would've gotten caught in his lie.

"Hero?"

"No, some girl on Tinder."

The man frowned, then continued examining Drake's face. "Looks like he got you pretty good."

"You should've seen the other guy."

"Yeah?"

"I don't think there's ever been anyone walk away from a fight as unharmed as he was."

This made Ricky chuckle. Of course Drake didn't fight back. He would've been surprised if he had, though he would've been all for it. Drake was stronger than he thought he was, or maybe he knew that and that's what scared him.

"How was work?" Drake asked, changing the subject.

"It was alright. Julio's in his room?"

At that moment, the mentioned boy trudged down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Without a word, he grabbed his meal and drink and went back upstairs.

"He's still pissy?" Ricky asked, but Drake only shrugged. "I guess I'll go talk to him." He pulled his frosty out of the cup-holder and picked up one of the plastic spoons, then went after his brother.

Drake went to the living room to get the book he had been reading, then he brought it back to the kitchen and sat down in one of the bar-stools. He slid the bag across the counter and peeked inside to separate his food from Ricardo's. He opened his book, then tossed a fry into his mouth as he started to read. He didn't get far before his phone dinged.

 **Theo Quest: got plans tonight?**

His immediate reaction was to ignore it. He didn't want to go out. He just wanted to stay in and read and then cry about being sober and then cry about not being able to sleep and then cry about not being sober some more. However, he knew that he needed to break this chain and start doing things to better his life. Isolating himself in his room wouldn't be healthy in the long run.

 **Drake Parker: sup**

 **Theo Quest: just bought until dawn for ps4**

 **Drake Parker: my house orrurs**

 **Theo Quest: mine. got pizza rolls**

 **Theo Quest: need me to pick u up?**

 **Drake Parker: plez**

He put his phone down and picked up his burger. Ricardo was coming down the stairs around that time. He set down his frosty, plopped into the seat next to Drake and reached for the Wendy's sack.

"Any luck?" the youngest asked.

"No, he said he was fine. I don't know what's going on with him." Ricardo unwrapped his spicy chicken sandwich. "Maybe it's one of those things he likes to deal with on his own and then he'll tell me about it when it's over."

"Maybe." Drake wouldn't meet his eyes.

"So what have you been up to today?"

"Not much," he lied. "I started putting that bookshelf together, but then I took a break because my back was hurting."

"How far did you get?"

"More than halfway."

"Want me to help you knock out the rest after dinner?"

"Actually, Theo was gonna come pick me up to stay the night."

"Oh, cool." He tried (and failed) to nonchalantly ask, "What are you guys gonna do?"

"He got this new video game and he wants me to come play, or I guess watch him play. I think it's only one-player."

"Are you gonna need any money?"

"I don't think so. He said he has pizza rolls, so I doubt we'll be going out anywhere. You're gonna be able to pick me up for rehearsals in the morning, right?"

"Yeah. You want me to come a little early so you can grab breakfast somewhere?"

"Yeah."

Ricardo sighed quietly, but his friend still heard it. "You'll call if you need to, right?"

"Yeah. I promise."

The man was silent for a moment and Drake could tell that he still wasn't too keen on the idea of the boy going out tonight. "I'm trying to trust you."

"I know," he said. "It's okay. I know it'll take time to earn your trust back."

Drake had stayed over at Hero's and this would make it twice this week that he's spent the night elsewhere. He'd admitted to getting high at the woman's house while she slept. He could just as easily do that at Theo's. He hated leaving the house, which made Ricardo skeptical that he was willing to spend two nights away in such a short time-frame. The young man could see the suspicion and concern on his friend's face. This was a process for everyone. He had to make decisions that affected more than just himself. They needed to make this a healthy, trustworthy, judgement-free and considerate environment, meaning that Drake needed to take Ricky's worry into account.

"I'll cancel," he said with a shrug and he wiped his hands off with a napkin before picking up his phone.

"No, don't do that."

"It's okay. I don't really even-"

"No, seriously. Go. What are you gonna do if you stay here? Lay awake all night wishing you could get high? Hang out with your friend. Go have fun."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He gave him a smile. "Go."

Drake met his eyes. "I promise nothing's gonna happen," he said. "I give you my word."

* * *

Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer we're both leaning towards Drake, but they couldn't quite reach him without falling off the dresser. He pulled the back of his shoe over his heel, then gave the tops of both of their heads a quick kiss and told them he loved them. The young man slung his bag over his shoulder and left his room, closing the cats in behind him. He'd heard the doorbell ring almost a minute ago and he thought Theo might be waiting for him outside. He was shy like that and they'd went to his house the few times they'd hung out, so he hadn't really met Ricardo and hadn't spoken to Julio since high school. Drake went down the staircase that led to the foyer, but as he passed the kitchen, he heard his roommate's alpha voice.

"Now I have your address."

Drake saw the man pass a driver's license back to Theo. "Jesus, Ricky."

"You agreed that I could have your exact location anytime you leave the house if I asked."

This was true. After admitting to his latest relapse at Mrs. Hayfer's house, he'd allowed the man to do random searches of his belongings and he'd given him control of his money. Seeing how wary Ricardo still was, Drake had later given him more rights to invade his privacy. He had never been this smothering before, but things were different after the boy had almost died. It was obvious that awful time had taken a toll on him. Drake felt like he had no personal space anymore, but this was all temporary and he wanted his friend to feel at ease.

Drake picked his phone up off the island and held it up. "You're tracking me. Remember?" He put it into his pocket and continued searching around the kitchen.

"I just wanna make sure you're going where you said you were. Besides, you could always turn your phone off and then I'd have no idea how to find you if I needed to."

"Have you seen my charger?"

The man pointed to an outlet by the edge of be counter, where Drake had plugged in his phone after dinner, then he put his eyes back on Theo. After inviting him in, he'd motioned for him to sit on one of the bar-stools while he stood on the opposite side of the island. His height and serious demeanor were intimidating and he knew this. "No drugs," he said sternly to the boy sitting across from him. "You understand?" He didn't accompany it with a threat, but he didn't have to. His tone and physique were enough.

Theo's meek voice was just as serious, but mixed with fear as he looked up at him. "Yes, sir."

"Oh, um, this is Theo." Drake pulled his bag halfway off his shoulder so that he could put the charger inside. "Theo, this is my dad apparently."

"You wish."

"I do, actually."

"I'm Ricardo," he corrected. After giving his friend a playful, yet firm shove, he held his hand out for their guest to shake. "Nice to meet you."

Theo robotically shook it while glancing at his mental hospital buddy for an out.

"Okay, we're gonna go," Drake said. "Got anymore things you wanna say to scare my new friend away?"

"There's a few more, but I think I'll save them."

"Asshole."

"Guess I've been living with you too long. You're starting to rub off on me." He watched his roommate lead Theo towards the door and jokingly called, "Bye, son. Remember what we talked about. Say no to drugs."

Drake picked up an orange out of the fruit bowl he passed and hurled it at the man, who dodged it with laughter. Once outside, he said, "Jesus, I'm sorry about him." He felt a raindrop land on his arm, then another.

"He's scary."

"He's really not. He's a cool guy. Things are just kinda weird right now. I relapsed again and lied to him about it and I'm just trying to make things right again." He got in the passenger's seat as Theo got behind the wheel.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I just slipped up." He shrugged as if to say it wasn't a big deal, but he was still having a hard time forgiving himself for it and Theo could hear the shame in his voice.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want."

Drake changed the subject with relief. "Is your mom and sister home?"

Theo has two sisters, but the oldest, who is twenty-seven, is married and has two kids and the youngest, nineteen, is in the army. She's back home visiting for a couple weeks.

"Yeah, but Mom's gotta work tonight and Casey's going to a bar or something with some friends, so it's just you, me and a giant bag of pizza rolls."

"You're very stuck on these pizza rolls."

Theo shrugged. "I'm just excited. I've never actually had anyone over for a sleepover before."

"Ever?"

"Well, I didn't really have friends or anything, remember?"

Drake found this to be extremely weird, but he had spent the night at his friends' houses more than the average kid so that he wouldn't have to stay with his father. He'd been a couch-hopper since his early teenage years. He had a hard time finding a sense of belonging because he had constantly been moving from place to place. Having divorced parents and rotating from house to house was a big enough transition, but then adding the houses of his friends, classmates and make-out buddies into the mix became even more overwhelming. After his times on the street and with Tad, he'd given up on ever feeling like he could call someplace home. That is, until Ricardo and Julio had dragged him into their lives. Now he never wanted to leave.

* * *

By the time they reached Theo's house, it was pouring down raining. He pulled into the garage, then turned off the car.

"Do you care if I smoke before we go in?"

"No, go ahead."

Drake got out of the car and went over towards the garage door so that the smoke would go outside rather than in. He lit up, then exhaled and looked up at the pouring rain.

"This'll be fun," Theo said as he came around his side of the vehicle to stand beside the boy. "Playing a horror game during a thunderstorm."

"Yeah," he agreed absently. It hadn't rained in a while and it felt comforting now. It definitely made the thought of not being home for several consecutive hours less daunting. Drake squatted down and rested his back against the trunk of the car for support. He took a drag of his cigarette, then watched the cloud of smoke leave his mouth, travel upwards and disappear in the rain. "How have you been?"

Theo looked down at him. Drake was already a small guy and squatting down only made him even smaller. He sometimes shopped in the little boys' section and the tag sticking out of the back of his gray pajama shirt gave this away. He could stand to gain another twenty or so pounds to reach a healthier weight for his size and he was trying. He had been much smaller than this while on the streets and starving, so he was making progress, although slowly. His latest relapse hadn't helped either considering all of the puking he had done on top of hardly eating. He didn't look well — not when Theo compared him to what he had looked like in high school. He had girls all over him back then and, honestly, he could still have girls all over him if he put himself out there, but he still looked run-down. Maybe it wasn't just his lack of an appetite that made him this way. Maybe there was more to it, but he clearly didn't want to talk about it, just like he'd quickly abandoned the relapse conversation from earlier. He probably had a lot on his mind and was struggling with his depressing thoughts, but if he hadn't talked earlier, he wouldn't talk now — not unless Theo made himself look vulnerable, too. That way, Drake wouldn't feel like he was being weak or annoying.

"It's been a rough transition honestly," Theo answered. "I've been to mental hospitals plenty of times and I just feel like nothing ever changes. My mom's great and my sisters call when they can, but—" He squatted down and leaned his back against the car to match his friend's height. "—it's just not the same. They have no idea what I'm going through and sometimes they say the wrong thing and I snap. It's like I know they're trying to help, but...I don't know. Sometimes I just feel really alone."

"Yeah, me, too," Drake said quietly. He was silent for a few moments, then he continued suddenly as if just now recalling something. "I know I'm not, though, and I have to start remembering that. I can't keep slipping up. It's destroying other people's lives...like Julio. He can't even stand to be in the same room as me anymore. He hates me."

Theo cautiously asked, "Is he what happened to your face?"

The boy said nothing, but his silence was enough of an answer.

Back in ninth grade, Drake and Julio could always be found in the hallways of the school together. Even on the few occasions when Theo had ran into them outside of school, they were usually together. The two had been best friends for a long time and he couldn't imagine Julio ever hating Drake. Still, ninth grade was so long ago and people change, so he really didn't know enough about his former classmate to assure Drake that he was still well-liked by him.

"Did your sisters ever..." Drake started, but then he trailed off.

Theo waited a few moments for him to continue, but it was clear that he wouldn't without a push. "Did they ever what?"

"I don't know. Did they ever...get mad or jealous when your mom treated you differently than them or gave you extra attention because of what happened to you?"

This was actually something that he couldn't relate to, so instead of answering, he asked, "Is that what's happening at home?"

Drake took another hit, then slowly let go of his breath before speaking. "I don't know how to fix this. I've been fucking around and acting selfishly for so long and now I see what's it's doing to Julio. If I say something, I just sound like a hypocritical asshole and he hates me even more and he'll eventually stop being my friend altogether, but if I don't say anything, then...then what if something goes wrong and he gets hurt?"

"Well," Theo started, "which can you live with? Intervening and losing your best friend? Or not intervening and allowing your best friend to lose himself?"

* * *

"Oh my fucking God! I pressed triangle!" Theo exclaimed as he watch the fire tower that two of his characters were in turn over and collapse into the mines. The screen went dark for a second, then it displayed the male character named Matt climbing around on the upside-down tower-turned-jungle-gym. "Well, at least _he_ 's alive. His girlfriend was a bitch anyway."

"Emily reminds me of my ex-fiancée," Drake said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, she was just like that, but with a lot more name-calling and yelling and hitting."

"Damn." Moments later, he watched the angle change to show Emily clutching to a part of the tower, hanging on for dear life as her feet dangled over a large, deep, dangerous abyss. "Oh, I guess she _is_ alive."

"That's good. You haven't killed anyone yet."

In _Until Dawn_ , there are eight characters the player is trying to keep alive. They're stuck on a snowy mountain and being hunted one by one. It was like a ninety's horror film, but interactive.

Emily: Matt, you've gotta do something right now! What are you waiting for?!

Matt: I'm thinking! Let me think!

Emily: Don't think, you idiot! Just get me outta here!

The camera turned to Matt, then two choices popped up next to his head. On the right, it read _Supportive ("You're gonna be fine.")_ and the left said _Suspicious ("I saw you with Mike!")_ Mike was Emily's ex. Matt had seen them being a little too friendly with one another earlier while looking through some binoculars.

Theo busted out laughing. "Like this is the right time to bring that up! Jesus! Oh, but I wanna be a douchebag so bad because I hate her!"

Theo was like Julio in the sense that they both got super into their video games. Drake enjoyed sitting back and watching other people make the hard decisions and he liked to study the choices they made.

Theo groaned. "Ugh! She totally deserves it, but I'm gonna hurt my own feelings if I say something mean." He clicked _Supportive._

Matt: Emily, you're upset. You need to calm down. You're gonna be fine.

Emily: Ugh, stop talking! I can't take it!

Matt: _Stop_ yelling at me and let me work this out, okay?!

Emily: Yeah, you just take all the time you need. Not like I'm going anywhere!

 _Sarcastic ("Whatever you say.")_ or _Concerned ("Don't move.")_

Theo laughed again, which made Drake laugh, too. "God, I want to so badly! Why am I so nice?! I fucking hate myself." He picked _Concerned._

Matt: I'm gonna try and get to you and pull you up.

Emily: Now will you please get me off this goddamn tower?! Please, please, please, Matt! Just do something!

Suddenly, the tower dropped downward slightly as if it were about to fall, then a choice popped up, this one timed. Theo had just seconds to choose between _Jump To Safety_ or _Save Emily._ He went with the latter.

"What the fuck? I could've yelled at her and still saved her?!" He went quiet as Matt reached for his girlfriend, but Emily dropped down to a lower railing and screamed.

Emily: Shit! Oh, shit! Matt!

Matt: I don't wanna tip it.

He tip-toed backwards and the player was, once again, given the same choice: _Save Emily_ or _Jump To Safety._

"They're trying to make me second-guess myself." Theo chose the same option and Matt reached down for the girl's hand. Once again, the weight of the towel shifted and jerked, causing Emily to let go and fall down into the dark abyss. "What the fuck?! What was I supposed to do?! Jump to safety?!"

At that moment, a cut scene played. The entire tower began to collapse, forcing Matt to jump to a nearby ledge that led into the mines. He hit his head and the screen went black, then came back to a scene of him dizzily coming to.

"Maybe you were supposed to jump to safety first and then help her so your weight didn't make everything fall," Drake offered.

"So I was supposed to be a douchebag the whole time?! And I wanted to!"

"Or maybe it was one of those things that didn't matter either way."

Matt walked around for a few moments until something suddenly fell behind him. The two boys flinched at the jump scare. Drake was glad that it was storming outside because it made him feel much more immersed into the game. Suddenly, the character was grabbed and dragged by something unseen. He screamed and kept grabbing at his jacket.

"Oh, come on. Come on!" Theo complained with irritation.

They watched as he was lifted up, then the camera turned to a few hooks hanging on the walls.

"No! No!"

One of the hooks went right through the character's neck and came out of his mouth. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dangled there, dead.

"What the fuck?!" Theo jumped up and pressed pause. "What the fuck was I supposed to do there?!"

Drake couldn't help that he was laughing. "You literally just lost two people in, like, two seconds."

"Fuck off."

"He kept grabbing for his jacket. I bet when Emily found that flare gun, you should've chosen for her to give it to Matt instead of keep it."

"GRRR!" Theo growled from deep within his chest. He tossed the controller down and stomped out of the room, probably for a bathroom break since they had been playing for hours.

Drake stood, too. "Hey, I'm gonna go smoke."

He picked up his cigarettes and took them out to the garage just as lightning flashed. It was raining so hard that he couldn't get right next to the large door without getting soaked, so he stood back a couple feet, wishing he would've grabbed a jacket. The rain was cold for it to be July. His mind roamed to thoughts about Ricardo and how he was. He knew that his absence had left the man with concern and he hoped that he wasn't worrying too much about him. He was tired of causing everyone so much stress. He decided to pull out his phone and text him an update.

 **Drake Parker: hey ur prob sleepin ..buti wanted to check in &letu Know im ok havnt had any cravings &.things r ok**

He didn't expect to get a response since it was close to one in the morning, but he did.

 **Ricardo Santos: thx for letting me know. Was doing a bunch of paperwork for the bar but I'm heading to bed now. Goodnight**

Drake was about halfway through his cigarette now. Theo opened the door so suddenly that Drake flinched. His friend bounced outside.

"That was total fucking bullshit," he was still complaining. "Anyway, I'm making us some pizza rolls. Damn, it's raining hard."

* * *

Ricardo got out of his car when Drake didn't answer his phone. He'd just spoken to the boy earlier when he'd told him he'd be about thirty minutes late picking him up from _Rent_ rehearsals. Drake had said he'd wait for him, but he was nowhere in sight and he wasn't answering his phone. His mind immediately went to one place. _What if he relapsed?_

Ricardo walked down the sidewalk past where Drake would usually smoke a cigarette while waiting for him. He pushed his way through the double doors and immediately saw his friend laying on his side against the wall, his head on his backpack. He was asleep. The man approached him quietly and woke him with gentleness and caution.

The second Drake saw him, he sat up. "Shit, sorry."

"I tried to call you."

"I must've forgotten to take my phone off silent after rehearsals." Drake checked his phone and saw that he was correct, then fixed it.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." He took Ricky's hand and allowed him to help him up, then he bent down and grabbed his things before following the man to his car. After getting in, he rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes.

"Tired?"

"Mm-hmm."

Ricardo glanced at him. "You know it's your night to cook dinner." When he didn't get a response, he added, "Right?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna do it."

"Did rehearsals go okay?"

"Yeah, I got yelled at."

The man furrowed his brows. "Why?"

"It's not a big deal." Finally, Drake opened his eyes so that he could turn on the radio. He didn't even bother changing the station because he knew that Ricardo would only flip it back. He turned the volume up slightly as his not-so-subtle way of saying he didn't want to talk, then he rested his head against the seat again and, this time, drifted off to sleep.

Ricardo left him that way until he pulled into the driveway. The two went inside and Drake laid down on the couch, claiming he just needed a fifteen minute nap before starting on dinner. He was asleep again once his head hit the pillow. The older boy decided to leave him that way and began cooking himself. Since he'd started over getting clean, Drake hadn't been sleeping much. He stayed up a lot crying and fighting his addiction on his own, but he needed the rest. Finally, he was peacefully asleep despite some faint Fourth Of July firecrackers from distant houses.

* * *

"I thought Drake was cooking," Julio said as he came down the stairs.

Ricardo noticed him stumble towards one of the bar-stools. "He's sleeping. Are you drunk?"

"It's a holiday and I had the day off."

"How's school going?"

"It's good."

"Passing your classes?"

"Yeah, so what are you making?" he asked to change the subject.

"Chicken and white cheese enchiladas."

"Mmm. Drake's gonna hate missing that. You waking him up to eat?"

"Nah, I'm gonna let him sleep while he can. Otherwise, he might not be able to go back to sleep later with all these fireworks."

"Wish I could get out of my turn to cook like that." He said this bitterly and his brother noticed this.

"He's just been having a lot of cravings that keep him awake and nightmares when he manages to fall asleep. What's up?"

Julio kept his jealousy and hatred to himself. The last thing he wanted was to be scolded by Ricky for having little sympathy for the wounded puppy dog in their living room. "Let me know when it's done, okay?" With that, he made his way back upstairs.

* * *

Not surprisingly, Drake could feel himself having sleep paralysis. He hated suffering from this so often. A lot of times, it had something to do with his father. This time, however, Martin wasn't present. Instead, he saw Marcellas and Rashaad. He was looking up at their toothy smirks because he was laying flat on his back in the grave he had dug on what was probably the worst night of his life.

He tried to get up, but he couldn't move. It was as if he was being pinned down. When he looked around, he saw that this was true. Just at the edge of his vision, he could see pale, filthy hands sticking out of the dirt and clutching him. There were three pairs: one at his left arm, one at his right arm and one at his feet. He wanted to pull away, but he couldn't. He wanted to scream, but it wouldn't come.

Marcellas and Rashaad said nothing. They just kept looking down at him and laughing as they watched him struggle against his restraints. He was too weak. Suddenly, Drake saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his fearful gaze in that direction and saw more popping out of the dirt in between the arms. It was a head. It took him a moment to realize that he knew the face since it was covered in dirt and blood. It was Sammie, the other guy who had owed money to Marcellas. He never made it through the night alive. Instead, he had been shot in the head just inches away from Drake. Drake had been forced to bury the body.

He never talked about this, but it still haunted him to this day. He never told Ricardo and Julio about it because he was scared that maybe they'd talk him into turning himself in. He knew it was the right thing to do, but he couldn't. Instead, his wife and kids had woken up that morning and never heard from Sammie again.

The terrified young man saw movement on his right. This time, he immediately recognized the person that was holding that side of him down: Meelah. Except it wasn't Meelah. She had different colored eyes. They were empty black pits that seemed to swallow Drake whole. Her teeth were jagged and her fingernails were lengthy claws sharpened to a point. She slashed at his chest and he felt a stinging sensation. She was angry and all Drake wanted to do was apologize to her — to both of them — but he was frozen and his voice got stuck in his throat.

Next he felt something rain down on top of him. He looked up and saw the two drug dealers holding shovels. They both scooped up dirt and poured it on top of Drake. They were going to bury him alive! He didn't even have time to process his fear before Martin shot out of the ground with a loud, inhuman roar. He was much bigger than Drake remembered, or maybe he just forgot what it had felt like to feel so small around him. Martin immediately scooped up the boy's legs, spreading them apart and tossing them over his shoulders in one swift movement. It was then that Drake realized he was naked.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Sammie grabbed his throat, Meelah clamped her hand over his mouth and Martin violently penetrated him. It felt like his penis had been replaced with a long, sharp knife. Drake couldn't move, he couldn't scream, he couldn't breathe and the two drug dealers continued unceasingly piling dirt on top of him. All he could do was lay there in his grave, surrounded by the people he had killed.

Minutes passed, before Marcellas and Rashaad put a moratorium on filling the hole. They disappeared out of sight, then returned moments later carrying another body. They swung it a couple times before tossing it into the grave. It landed right next to him and Drake was able to see that it was Julio. He was still alive and he seemed just as terrified as the one suffering through the vicious attack. Julio quickly backed himself against the dirt wall, his fear evident on his face.

At first, Drake tried begging him for help, but then he realized that his friend was the one who actually needed the help. Still, Drake was paralyzed. He moved his eyes back to the three corpses surrounding him. The one who was most terrifying was right above him: Martin Parker. Unlike Meelah's, his eyes were the same. They didn't need to change in order to scare his son. Drake felt so heavy, like he was filled with lead, but all he wanted to do was run.

He turned his eyes back to Julio and saw that the boy now had a razor in his hand and was slicing large gashes into his arms. He felt completely powerless. Again, another body was tossed into the grave. This time it was his mother. Like Julio, she was horrified and she soon began self-mutilating as well. Her weapon was a saw and, instead of cutting her wrists, she began chopping off her legs.

Drake could only lay there as he sobbed. He couldn't even apologize for being the cause of all this. She probably thought he didn't care. Marcellas and his right-hand man began piling on more dirt again until they were all covered, except there was room to move around in. It was like they were in a box, but there was no box. The dirt just made a tiny room for them. When Julio and Audrey finished destroying themselves, they went in on Drake.

The sleep paralysis went on for longer than three hours, topping his previous record. All the while, the torture never stopped. Meelah kept him quiet while Sammie strangled him. Julio carved through his skin with razors and Mrs. Nichols sawed away at his legs with careful precision so that she didn't interrupt her ex husband, who never could seem to finish. Hours and hours of him thrusting into the boy with what felt as sharp as a knife and Drake couldn't do anything about it but cry. Long ago, he had given up on the idea that this was just sleep paralysis. He believed he had died in his sleep and this was hell. This was the punishment he deserved — the torture he would have to endure for all of eternity. This was his hell. Funny, he always pictured a bunch of fire.

Right then, the grave was filled with flames, but his skin wasn't melting and he wasn't dying. He just felt it. It was like when his father would punish him by burning him on the stove or pouring boiling water on him, but it was way worse and it was on every inch of his skin.

As Drake lay on the couch visibly suffering through the hallucinatory paralysis, his kitten Macaulay jumped on top of him. It was as if someone had shaken him awake. Just this little, tiny movement was enough to break the paralysis. He shoved his attackers away, starting with Meelah so he could scream for help. He clawed at his neck to make Sammie let go and he clawed at his arms to get free of their grip.

Upstairs, Ricardo's eyes shot open the second he heard the noise. Drake was shrieking and moaning and growling with terror. He flung the cover off of himself and snatched his bedroom door open, then bolted down the stairs two at a time. He entered the living room just in time to see his friend scratch his own bare chest so violently that it left trails of blood.

"Bro, stop." He hurried towards the boy, who continued to injure himself even further. He started to gently shake him and his touch immediately woke him.

The second Drake's eyes landed on him, he screamed and went for a punch. He often was extremely disoriented after vivid nightmares, so Ricardo expected this and was able to dodge it. The terrified young man gave him a hard shove, then he started scooting himself backwards with his hands and heels. He fell over the arm of the couch and hit the floor hard, but he continued frantically moving away like it never happened.

"Hey, hey, hey," Ricky tried soothingly.

"Please, don't!" He was still crying heavily.

"Calm down. It was just a nightmare. It's over now. You're home. You're safe."

"Please don't touch me! Please don't touch me!"

"It's me. It's Ricardo. It's Ricky, bro."

"Ricky?" his voice cracked out. It took a moment for this to register in his mind, but he realized these words were true. As his nightmare world began melting away, he found himself in his living room. He looked around frantically. It felt like he hadn't been here in years. After his horrible hallucination, he thought that he'd never return.

Ricky turned on a lamp, which dimly lit the room. He watched Drake's eyes as he tried to process everything. He was clearly confused like he so often was, but unlike when the man would wake him from a nightmare, he was whimpering and Ricardo had never seen him shake so much in his life

"What's happening?" the boy whispered.

"Nothing's happening," his friend said calmly. "You're safe. You were just having a nightmare. No one can touch you now." He knelt down in front of him and was surprised when Drake wrapped his arms around him. Ricardo held him and rubbed circles into his back as he bawled into his chest.

"I'm scared."

"I know. I'm right here. I'm not gonna let anyone touch you, okay? Just breathe." He could hear the beginning of a panic attack and he wanted to get control of that before it turned into a full-fledged thing. "You're okay." He rocked him back and forth as the boy's trembling fingers clutched the back of his shirt.

Ricky looked around, then grabbed the blanket hanging off the edge of the couch and put it over both of their heads. It was hard to breathe under blankets, which sounds like it'd only make things worse, but it worked for Drake. It forced him to focus on his inhales and exhales and took his mind off of everything else. The young man was drenched with sweat and being trapped under a blanket with him and having hot air cycling around made Ricardo sweat, too, but he ignored it and continued comforting his friend.

A long time passed before Drake's uncontrollable sobbing turned into quiet weeping. He felt embarrassed to be acting like this. He was a grown man after all, but he couldn't stop. The nightmare had felt so real. It actually felt like he had just endured a vicious sexual assault for over three hours straight. He felt all those same emotions, but amplified due to his lack of drugs to numb him.

Ricardo was the first to break the silence that had been going on for over twenty minutes now. "You wanna come lay down in my room?" he asked softly. "You can get comfortable and try to sleep and I'll wake you up if you start to have another nightmare."

Drake just nodded into his chest. Ricky stood and helped him up. The young man kept his head down with shame and allowed his friend to lead him upstairs. They made a detour to the bathroom and Ricardo wet a washcloth and started cleaning him off. It wasn't until then that Drake noticed the claw marks and the blood and the stinging of his scratched skin. There were a couple marks on his bare chest, but his neck was a complete wreck. His arms were the worst of all, so the man wrapped them up in a bandage after helping his stunned, disoriented roommate clean the blood out from underneath his fingernails.

"I feel sick," Drake said quietly.

"You gonna throw up?"

He didn't even have time to respond before vomit raced up his esophagus. He managed to lean over the toilet in time to hit the bowl. Ricardo cleaned up the bloody tissues while he did this. He went to change his own shirt, which had some of the boy's blood on it, while Drake relieved his bladder. Panic attacks always made him have to pee. He washed his hands and the man came back just as he was finishing brushing his teeth.

"You ready?" he asked quietly.

Drake nodded and followed him to his room. He laid down on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He was still crying and he felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry. This is so pathetic."

"Hey, no, it's not."

"I just wanted to do this on my own. I wanted to prove to you that I'm serious about cleaning up this time and that I would be okay when you're not around."

"I know."

"I wanna get high." His voice cracked with disappointment.

Ricardo rubbed his bicep for comfort.

"I won't, but it's just so fucking hard."

"I know," the man said. "You wanna talk about your nightmare?"

Drake played the images back in his mind. He still felt heavy and weak from the paralysis. He kept thinking about what they had done to him and what made him feel the most nauseous was knowing that he deserved it. He was the reason that they were dead, the reason Julio was so fucked up, the reason his mother had lost mobility of her legs and started taking Xanax. He had ruined all of their lives. He wished Marcellas' safety on his gun hadn't been on when eeny-meeny-miney-mo had decided that it was his time to die. Thinking about all this made him cry harder.

"Hey, c'mere." Ricardo pulled him closer and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him against the safety of his chest again. "You don't have to talk about it. It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," he assured softly. "It's okay."

* * *

Drake heard the last firecracker go off somewhere after three o'clock. Ricardo had fallen asleep somewhere around midnight, but his friend hadn't been so lucky. The young man stayed awake for fear of who might visit him when he closed his eyes. He was extremely tired after the long day of rehearsals he'd had on top of staying up with Theo the night before, but even if he wanted to give in and get some shut-eye, it was impossible.

Hour after hour ticked away on the clock until the man started moving around — first his leg, then his arm, then he opened his eyes. He blinked a few times to clear the sleepiness from his eyes.

"You're awake," Ricky said. "Did you sleep?"

Drake didn't want to say he hadn't, but he also didn't want to lie. The best thing he could think of to do was to not answer the question.

The man wasn't fully awake yet and therefore didn't understand that his silence was an answer. "Drake?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said in a quiet, monotone voice.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Can I have some of my money? I wanna go for a walk to the store." He'd rather mope around in bed all day, but he wanted to try to better his mood rather than let himself fall into a depression for the rest of his day. That was too dangerous at this point in his sobriety.

"What are you gonna buy?"

"Orange juice." He had been thinking about orange juice for the past couple hours now. At first, it had just been a thought while the sun was coming up through the windows, but then he started thinking about how strong of a punch the beverage had and how maybe that could wake him from his slump. After that, it became something he felt like he desperately needed in order to save his day.

Ricardo thought about this. Orange juice was a couple dollars...and so was Charlie. He wanted to trust him, but Drake had never just woken up wanting to walk to the store for any kind of juice before. On days when he was this down, the only thing that got him out of bed was the hope that his favorite red pills were in stock.

"Lemme drive you."

"I wanna walk — stretch my legs."

"Can you give me some time to get dressed."

"I wanna go alone."

This took the man by surprise. He thought about it for moment. "I don't think it's a good idea."

Drake sighed.

"I'm trying to trust you. I really am."

"How am I ever gonna be able to prove myself to you if you don't let me? I went out with Theo the other night and behaved. I admitted to you how much I was struggling with a craving last night rather than lied to you. I had every opportunity to grab your wallet in the middle of the night and go to the store while you were sleeping, but I laid right here the whole time." He had wept a lot, but he didn't mention that. "If I wanted to relapse, I would've done it last night when I actually had the chance to get away with it."

"I believe you, but how do you know that when you get to the store, you won't change your mind?"

Drake thought about this. Ricardo had every right to do what he was doing. This is what they'd agreed on. It just made him feel indignant that he had to get permission to spend his own money. It was like when Dahlia told him he couldn't leave the house if he wanted to earn her trust back.

"I'll go to a gas station instead. They don't sell Charlie."

Ricardo exhaled slowly through his nostrils as he mulled this over. "You promise?"

"I promise."

He pushed himself out of bed and grabbed his wallet. Instead of giving Drake his card with both of their earnings on it, he pulled out a couple dollar bills and passed it to his friend. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't."

"Bring back the receipt and the change."

"Okay."

"Don't forget to take your medicine before you leave."

This reminder irritated him, but he brushed it off. "Okay."

* * *

Just like he'd hoped, the fresh air, exercise and orange juice had improved his mood. He'd made it back home just as the first sprinkles of rain started to fall and he'd given Ricardo his proof of purchase and leftover change. Afterwards, he went on the front porch to chain-smoke and watch the storm roll in. He was still pretty monotone and wanted to be alone, but it wasn't as bad as it had been this morning. Still, when his phone started ringing and Rhinestone's name flashed on the screen, Drake ignored it. He couldn't handle two hours of chatting, although maybe it would've been for the best. All he could do now was sit here and replay the nightmare he'd had over and over again, recalling every last detail. He didn't have to do this long before he got upset and began weeping, but at least it was just a "depression" upset and not an "anxiety" upset. Having another panic attack on top of all this would really put him over the edge.

He stayed outside for a couple hours, then Ricardo, sensing that something was still off, invited him inside for a Netflix binge. They chose to watch a new show rather than a movie and went with _Mindhunter_ , which, in short, was about the beginning of a unit in the FBI that interviewed serial killers to learn more about them. They were four episodes in when they took a break so that Ricardo could make a sandwich to hold him over until his date with Dee. As he was doing this, Julio joined him.

They didn't speak, but it was a comfortable silence. Julio stood next to him and grabbed his own slices of bread, then waited to use the same knife as his brother. After Ricardo finished spreading the peanut butter, he put he knife in the jar and passed it to Julio. When the boy grabbed it, he noticed his knuckles, red and swollen and a couple of them were busted. This took him by surprise. How long have they been this way? What had Julio done to make his hands look like this. Well, obviously, he punched something...or someone. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together and suddenly it clicked.

"It was you."

"Hmm?" Julio licked the extra peanut butter off the knife. "What was me?"

"You're the one who hit Drake." His voice showed his surprise.

Julio looked at him and noticed that he was staring at his knuckles. There was no use denying it at this point. He was busted, but he was too proud to show any remorse. "Yeah, so?"

"Yeah, so?!"

Drake heard his roommate suddenly raise his voice in the kitchen and it gave him a start.

"Why would you do that?!"

"None of your fucking business." He started to walk past him and back upstairs, but his bicep was grabbed.

"It is my business!" the man snapped.

"Let me go!"

Drake's first thought was to run or hide just like he'd tried to do during his father's outbursts when he was younger. In one second flat, his entire body was filled with fear. Hearing someone yell was enough to send him into a panic attack and hearing _two_ grown men yell while physical boundaries were being crossed made things even scarier. He stood with the intent to go to his room or out the front door or anything, but somehow, he ended up in the kitchen.

"What the hell's the matter with you?!" Ricardo exclaimed.

"Oh, _now_ you wanna know?!" Julio said bitterly.

"What do you mean _now_? I asked you the other day and you blew me off."

"I've been this way for months and you just noticed two days ago?!"

"Guys—" Drake started, but Julio kept going.

"That's funny. If Drake would've started acting differently, you would've noticed in seconds!"

"Well, maybe that's because Drake actually tells me when something's bothering him!"

He didn't like his name being brought up. It looked like the two Santos brothers were getting heated. Both stood taller and tougher and they were getting closer and closer. Someone was going to start throwing punches and it was probably going to be Julio. He's clearly been drinking.

"Guys, come on." Drake got in between them and pushed them apart.

"Oh, yeah, right, because Drake's so honest, isn't he?" Julio spat. "He must tell you all of his secrets, huh?!"

"Julio..." the separator said quietly.

"You're the only one keeping secrets in this house!" Ricardo retorted.

"You think so? Because last I checked, _Drake_ 's the one who fed you that bullshit story about some girl's boyfriend beating the shit out of him! Not me! I'm not the only fucking liar in this house!"

"Julio, come on. You're drunk," Drake tried.

"You're drunk?!" Ricky exclaimed.

Maybe it hadn't been as obvious as Drake had originally thought.

"That's two days in a row!"

" _Actually,_ " Julio corrected, "it's more like three months in a row. Geez, you're so fucking blind!"

The look of shock and anger on Ricardo's face scared their twenty-two year old roommate.

"But you know who knew how often I was drinking?" Julio wore a grin. It was like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment and it had finally come. "Drake."

"Julio, stop."

"No, no, come on. He thinks you're so honest! Let's fucking tell him what kind of person you really are! You lie more than both of _us_ put together!"

The young man's fingers started to shake and alarms were going off in his head. He was in deep shit.

"So tell him, Drake! Tell him how you caught me drinking at the hospital! Tell him about when I brought a bottle of whiskey home and you saw it when I stopped by your room! Tell him how I clearly needed help and you just got up and slammed the door in my face so you could get high on fucking cough medicine! TELL HIM!"

Drake was crying now. He no longer felt like he needed to separate the two brothers. Instead, it was almost like Julio needed to be held back from attacking him. The boy took a few steps back, but was stopped when he came into contact with the kitchen island.

"I'm sorry," he said to his long-time best friend.

"And while we're at it, why don't we tell him about the day I beat the shit out of you, huh?! Tell him how you let me get behind the wheel after I'd been drinking all day!"

His voice came out weak. "I tried—"

"And then I called you from jail, right?! You couldn't pay to bail me out because my brother had your money, didn't he?! So you went out of your way to hide this from him for me! You borrowed hundreds of dollars from your friends knowing that I could never pay you back because I blew all my school money after I dropped out! Oh, yeah! There's another thing we kept from my brother! How many does that make now?!"

Drake finally gained the courage to meet Ricardo's eyes. He clearly felt betrayed and furious and this filled the boy with guilt.

"I'm sorry," he begged. "I'm sorry. I can explain."

The man shook his head. He had nothing more to say to either of the two liars. He turned and marched up the stairs. Seconds later, his bedroom door slammed so loud that Drake flinched.

"Why would you do that?" he asked pitifully.

"Because he's _my_ brother. You took him away from me, so now I'm taking him away from you. You weaseled your way into this family and you don't belong here. Your own family didn't want you. What makes you think we do?"

Drake's heart sank so fast that it took his breath away. All he could do was stand there stunned and weeping pathetically until Julio's scary voice snapped him out of his pity party.

"Didn't you hear me?! GO! Fucking go!"

Drake flinched, then stumbled when he was shoved. Julio forced him out the front door using his threatening voice to guide him that way, then he stood outside alone.

* * *

Alice squinted with concern when she saw a figure sitting on her doorstep. She pulled the key out of the ignition, then got out of the car. "Drake?"

He was still crying. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." She went past him and searched her key-chain for her house key.

"I'm sorry. I know you've been out all day running errands and you're tired. Sorry."

"It's okay." She pushed the door open, then waved for him to enter and led him into the dining room. "You hungry? You want me to make you something to eat?"

"I'm okay. Thank you."

She motioned for him to take a seat when she did and she noticed him wipe his eyes. "What happened? Who did that to your face?"

"There was a fight. Ricky started yelling at Julio because he found out that Julio was the one who hit me and then Julio started yelling at Ricky and then me and then Ricky stormed off and Julio kicked me out."

"Hey, slow down. Just take a breath," she said. "So Julio did this to you?" After Drake nodded, she asked, "Why?"

"Because he wanted to go somewhere and he was trashed, so I took his keys and dropped them down the drain, but he had a spare and left anyway after knocking me out and then he got arrested and I had to get him. He made me promise not to tell his brother, so I didn't, but then he told Ricky everything and now they both hate me."

Alice got it now. "They don't hate you."

"I lied to Ricky after swearing I wouldn't anymore." He wiped the fresh tears from his eyes. "And Julio hates me so much he threw me against the wall the other day and threatened to kill me."

"I don't understand why he would do that. You two have been best friends since I've known you."

"He was drunk. He's been drinking a lot lately. Everyday. He's not a fun drunk. He gets like my dad. He blames me because I keep putting him through so much stress with my trauma and relapses and overdoses and suicide attempts and I know he's right, so I've straightened up, but I feel like I waited too long and the damage is already done." Drake leaned on the table and rested his head in his palms. "When I was out there ruining _my_ life, I didn't realize I was ruining his, too."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to come inside with you?" Alice asked as she turned onto the street where the Santos brothers' house was located.

"I'm sure," Drake said.

"And you don't want me to wait outside?"

"I don't know how long it'll take. It'll be okay. If things get bad, I'll leave. I'm just gonna go in and try to find some kind of compromise. If he still says he wants me gone, then I'll go."

She flipped on her blinker and turned into the driveway. Outside, they saw a couple white garbage bags filled up with Drake's clothes and some other belongings. There were also some other things scattered around the yard, like books and movies and the outer space snow globe he'd gotten for his birthday. The young man sighed.

"If you have to leave, where do you plan on going?"

"I don't know yet. I might be able to couch-hop between Gemini's and Theo's for a little while. I'll figure it out if it gets to that."

"Well, you can stay with me and my husband if you need to. Neither of us wanna see you back on the streets."

Drake was blown away. Just years ago, he'd sat in her class and they had hated each other's guts. Now they could potentially be roommates. He loved having her as a friend rather than a foe. It had been nice getting to know this side of her these past couple months. She reminded him of his mom. She was so caring and nurturing that he couldn't remember how he'd ever grown to despise her.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

Alice was a little surprised herself when he leaned in for a hug. She hugged him back, then gave him an optimistic smile. "You'll call me later and let me know if things worked out?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded. "I'm proud of you for coming to me. There was a number of other places you could've gone, but you made the right choice."

Drake's heart filled with warmth. He smiled back, then thanked her for the ride and got out of the car. Alice waved before backing out of the driveway and going down the road. He would've liked the support, but he didn't know if things would get violent between himself and Julio. He didn't want to put his former teacher in a position like the one where she'd had to save him from Dev back at the motel.

Ricardo's car was gone. He'd probably left for his date super early because he couldn't stand to be in that house with a bunch of liars. Drake couldn't blame him. He wasn't sure how he could ever earn the man's trust back now, but he felt confident that his friend still loved him. He'd had his doubts earlier, but Mrs. Hayfer had reminded him about what Ricky told him back at the hospital. He'd promised that he'd never be mad enough to want Drake to hurt himself or ruin his life.

Drake left his belongings on the lawn because he figured he'd be kicked out anyway. There was really no reasoning with Julio when he was like this. Drake knew this from experience, having dealt with his alcoholic father for so long. As he walked up the driveway, he saw his two kittens. Macaulay was laying in Drake's smoking chair and Agent Jack Bauer was pawing at the bushes next to the steps. He understood Julio tossing out his shit, but his cats? That was low. He picked them up and took them inside. He'd grab his backpack and put them inside if he ended up having to leave.

Once he stepped through the door, his nose turned up at the scent that immediately hit his nostrils. Maybe that's why Julio had put the cats outside. There was definitely poop somewhere nearby.

Drake went up the foyer steps and checked Julio's room and the bathroom, then he started down the staircase that led to the kitchen. Once he turned the corner, he saw his friend laying at the bottom of the staircase. "Shit!"

Drake raced down the steps. This is definitely where the smell was coming from. Julio had shit himself and there was piss all down one side of his pants. Even with such severe stenches, Drake could still distinctly smell alcohol. The boy reeked of it. Drake's guitar was laying near his friend's feet, which were wrapped in the strap. He must've drunkenly tripped trying to carry it downstairs and toss it out.

"Gggll."

"Oh my God." Drake didn't know what to do. He started to reach for him, then stopped because he wasn't sure if he had any broken bones and if he should move him. However, he decided that it was best because he was choking on his own puke. He turned Julio onto his side and started scooping the vomit out for him.

Still, he wasn't breathing, so he pounded on his back. Luckily, this worked. Julio was breathing, but it was incredibly slowly and he still had a bluish tint around his lips. Drake wiped his hand off on his shirt, then grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and called the police. He told them what had happened and gave them the address and the dispatcher stayed on the line with him until paramedics showed. As they put Julio on a stretcher, Drake called Ricardo, but got nothing. He called a second time, but received no answer.

 **Drake Parker: plez call me**

He started to put his phone back in his pocket, but then he cleaned it off after noticing the vomit and he washed his hands. When he still didn't get a call back, even though it had been a short period of time since his text, he sighed and searched through his phone again, but for a different person: Dee.

"Please, please," Drake whispered to himself.

To his surprise, Dee actually picked up on the sixth ring. "Hey." His voice expressed that he didn't want to be rude, but he was clearly irritated.

"Hey, um, you're with Ricky?" He sniffled and his fingers were shaking.

"We're on a date."

"Can I talk to him really quick?"

"He's asking for you." There was a pause, then, "He doesn't really wanna talk to you right now."

"Can you just put him on, please? Something happened."

"I think it's important."

There was some rattling as the phone moved from one hand to another, then Ricardo said, "What?"

"Um, I just came home and found Julio passed out on the floor and he was choking on his vomit, so I got him to breathe again and I called an ambulance and now we're going to the hospital."

The anger left his voice and was replaced with worry. "Oh my God. Is he okay?"

"He's breathing, but it looks like he fell down the stairs and they think he could've broken something."

"Jesus!"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know this is all happening at a bad time. I didn't wanna have to call you—"

"It's okay. I'm glad you did. Where are you?"

"I'm still at the house. They're gonna let me ride to the hospital in the ambulance."

"Alright, I'm gonna meet you there."

"Okay. Call me when you get there."

"I will."

* * *

Drake stood when he heard the door open. It was Ricardo, which he expected since he'd just asked what room number they were in. Dee tagging along was a surprise, though.

"Hey, how is he?" the man said quietly.

"They said he'll be okay. He has alcohol poisoning, so they have him hooked up to an IV for fluids and they're giving him oxygen because he's breathing really slowly."

The man nodded. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I guess I'm just a little shaken up." He accepted Ricardo's embrace and felt comfort. After they separated, he looked at Dee. "I'm sorry I ruined your date."

"Don't be."

"So what happened?"

"I went back to try and talk things out with Julio and figure out if he really wanted me to leave or not before it got dark and I found him at the bottom of the stairs choking on his vomit, so I turned him on his side and got him breathing again and then called the police."

"Damn, you got there at just the right time," Dee said.

 _Or three months too late,_ Drake thought.

"What did you mean when you said you were gonna ask him if he really wanted you to leave?" Ricardo questioned.

"After the whole argument, he kicked me out and told me not to come back."

"You know he didn't mean that."

"Apparently he did. My shit's all over the front lawn."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you."

Drake nodded. "He does. He's been telling me for months."

"What?" He was shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The young man was cradling himself, feeling comfort as he hugged his small frame. "I didn't want you to get mad at him. He has every right to feel that way after everything I've done. I thought that maybe I could fix things after I got out of the hospital, but things just got worse and worse until it got to the point where he can't even stand to be in the same room as me."

Ricardo then realized he couldn't remember the last time he had seen the two boys together. "Why is he mad at you?"

"Because of everything I've done and how selfish I've been. He said I took you away from him and that I ruined his life. That's why, back at the hospital, I started snapping at you a lot and why I wanted to be left alone. I wanted you two to get back the relationship I got in the way of. Learning how to rely on myself is something I've been trying to work on lately because I know I take up a lot of attention, but I think it's too late now. He doesn't wanna be my friend anymore."

Ricardo sighed and walked past him to sit down on one of the chairs. "I don't know how I missed all this. I have no idea what's been going on in my own house. You told me some random guy beat you up, for Christ's sake, but all this time, it was my brother."

"I'm sorry. He asked me not to tell and I guess...I guess old instincts kicked in."

"What have I been missing? Fights, drunk driving, jail, quitting school — what's going on?"

"Well, this week has just been worse than others. When you went out with Dee Sunday, Julio fell down the stairs, but he was fine. He just had a bump on his head. I kept trying to talk to him about his drinking and he threw me up against the wall and threatened to kill me. The next day, I took his keys because he was trying to drive and that's when he beat me up. I managed to drop the keys down the drain in the sink, but he knocked me unconscious and found a spare. When I came to, he was calling from jail and that's when he told me he'd flunked out of school. I borrowed some money and bailed him out and he asked me not to tell you. I don't know why I listened. I guess I thought that maybe I could help him, so I didn't wanna break his trust. He doesn't want my help, though, because I just come off as a hypocrite when I try to talk about how his addiction is hurting him."

"I can't believe you kept all this from me."

"I know. I made a big mistake that could've cost him his life. I'm sorry."

They stopped talking about it for a long time. Dee sat in the chair next to Ricardo and the two spoke quietly amongst themselves while Drake squatted and rested his back against a wall, far enough away from them so that he couldn't hear. He kept his head low with guilt as he thought back on all the wrong choices he had made in his friendship with Julio. It was an hour or so later when Ricardo stood and crossed the room, then squatted down next to Drake. He said nothing, so Drake was first to break the silence.

"I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry I lied."

"I know. We can discuss it at home."

"I feel bad about your date. You guys broke up because I was getting in the way and now it's the same thing, but with Julio added to the mix. You're always taking care of everyone and you never have any time for yourself."

"Don't worry about it. I'm going to start making time." There was more silence, then, "I don't want you to move out."

"I know. I think maybe it'll be a good thing. You and Julio could spend more time together and I know you can actually help him sober up like you did me. I was in over my head and had no idea what I was doing, but you're really good at it."

"Where would you go?"

"Mrs. Hayfer said I could stay with her."

"Hey," came Dee's voice, "I think he's waking up."

Julio was starting to move his legs and stretch them out while still mostly asleep, but he would definitely be awake soon.

"I'm gonna go." Drake stood and Ricardo did the same.

"Why?"

"He doesn't wanna see me right now. Besides, he'll be more receptive to what you have to say about getting sober without me here."

Ricardo couldn't argue with this logic.

"I'll take you home," said Dee. He felt that this was a time for the brothers to be alone.

"Thanks."

They said their goodbyes and the two men got on the elevator. As they walked towards the parking garage, they ran into Mrs. Santos. Ricardo had called their parents earlier and both were on the way. Drake told her that Julio would be okay and gave her the room number, then they separated.

"Do you mind if I smoke, like, half a cigarette before we go?" Drake asked. He'd been dying for one since back at the house. "I'll just take a minute."

"Yeah, go ahead."

The young man went towards the back of the car, which was up against the wall since Dee has backed into the space. He was one of those parkers who always backed in. He ducked behind the trunk and leaned back against the wall as he lit up. He'd been to the hospital enough times to know that they had security driving golf carts around the parking lots and deck and smoking was prohibited here.

"I'm sorry about the date," Drake apologized again. "Was everything going well before I called, though?"

Dee leaned his hip against the gas tank and crossed his arms. "Yeah, it was nice. I mean, we only got through the appetizer, but still. It was a good first date."

"I feel so bad."

"Don't. Sometimes things just happen. I'm not mad," Dee said. "So I noticed Allie pull you aside at rehearsals yesterday. Didn't really look like the conversation was going well."

"Yeah, she says I haven't been performing well and that even my voice isn't the same as it was during auditions," said Drake. "And she's right. I kinda relapsed a couple days before rehearsals started and I was using everyday again. It went on for a week before I cleaned up, but when I use like that, I get really monotone and kinda like a zombie. Getting any emotion out at all is practically impossible. I don't know. You heard how I was singing that week. It was pretty shit. She got onto me then, too."

"Did you relapse again yesterday or something?"

"No, I spent the night at my friend's and we stayed up playing this video game. I was dead tired yesterday. I didn't think it was that noticeable. It definitely wasn't as bad as before, but Allie pulled me to the side and yelled at me." Drake put out his cigarette on the concrete, then put the other half back in the pack for later and pushed himself up. "You ready to go?"

"I've heard from some people who have worked with her on other productions before that she can get really nasty." He got into the front seat.

"Oh, yeah. She has a very colorful vocabulary." Drake closed the door after he was seated. "She's like the female version of my dad, but when she insults you, she doesn't just call you names. She gets really creative with it. She says the weirdest shit."

"What did she say?"

"She said I sucked and that she regretted casting me and she called me a cock-wielding turd-sock."

Dee's jaw dropped open and he was speechless for a moment. "Oh my God. What does that even mean?"

He expected the driver to laugh at the absurdity and he had been prepared to laugh, too, but Dee just seemed shocked and disgusted, which was the reaction that Drake didn't know he needed. "It kinda hurt my feelings," he admitted softly. "I explained to her that I was having trouble sleeping and she was all like, _'Maybe if you pulled your boyfriend's dick out of your mouth every once in a while, you could fall asleep'_ and then she called me a shit-ass cum-junkie."

"Jesus, what did _you_ say?"

"I just said _yes, ma'am._ I didn't know what else to say. I freeze up when people start yelling at me."

"I can not believe she said that to you."

"It was fine last week when I was using because the drugs numbed me up, but now I've just gotten clean, so my emotions are already all over the place without her shitting all over me."

"I think you should tell one of the other directors. She doesn't have the right to speak to you like that."

"I don't really wanna make any waves," Drake said. "I'm just gonna keep my head down and try not to piss her off."

"Well, if you change your mind and wanna speak out, I can go with you and offer moral support."

"Thanks. That's really kind of you."

Dee furrowed his brows. "Well, don't act so surprised."

"No, I'm — I mean—"

The man laughed.

"I know you're a nice person. I just — I didn't expect you to be so forgiving so quickly."

"It's cool. Don't worry about it." Dee glanced at the clock on his dashboard. "Geez, it's late. I'm hungry. Wanna stop somewhere and pick up something to eat on the way home?"

"I'll just eat at home. You go ahead, though."

The man knew that this meant he didn't have cash on him. "I'll buy and then you can get lunch one day during rehearsals."

"Okay. Thanks," he said. "I have money. It's just that Ricky holds on to it as part of our new agreement. I have to let him know when I wanna buy something and bring back a receipt."

"That doesn't sound fun."

"It's not," said Drake, "but it's only temporary. I get more and more freedom as I earn back his trust." After a moment, he added, "I know it sounds pathetic, but it helps...both of us. It makes my access to drugs a little more challenging and it makes him worry less."

"No, I get it. I think it's a good idea."

"It's like we both just realized how much our friendship is getting in the way of our other relationships. Because of me, he was neglecting you and Julio and I spent so many years relying on him when it came to all my shit that I never really learned how to cope with anything by myself."

"So he's been holding that weight for the both of you?" Dee asked.

"Yeah. Three years ago after he found me living with my supplier and basically doing whatever he wanted just so I could stay high, Ricky literally forced me to clean up. Like, I had no choice. There were bars on my window and everything. We were attached at the hip back then. If we were in the living room watching a movie and I wanted to grab something to drink, he would follow me to the kitchen and back. I couldn't go anywhere by myself. He saved my life, but now I'm not so helpless anymore. I cleaned up by myself this time. I admitted to what I had been doing and now he holds on to my money, but that's not to keep me sober. If I wanted it bad enough, I know some men who would give me the money for it. Ricky keeping my money is so that he feels better, so when he's off doing his own thing, he's not worrying about me doing dumb shit. This is the first time since I started using six years ago that I made the decision to clean up on my own and actually did it. I stay up crying all night a lot, but then in the morning, I feel...like...stronger."

"Damn. That's really good."

"The last time I remember being proud of myself was when I signed up for a library card and that was, like, four and a half months ago. It feels nice to be doing something beneficial for myself again."

Dee gave him an encouraging nod and a smile, then put his eyes back on the road. "I'm really happy you're getting it together."

"So maybe we can start our friendship over — pretend I wasn't the guy who ditched his best friends to propose to some girl after a week of living with her only to be the last one to find out that she was playing me for a fool and then trying to fuck my best friend's boyfriend and then running off to go kill myself afterwards? Maybe we can forget all that?"

"Deal." After a moment, he laughed. "Remember that day you came over to my house for the first time and I kicked your ass in MarioKart—"

"We tied."

"Nah, you cheated," then Dee continued. "And I started telling you about how you seemed like such a 'chill dude.'"

Drake started laughing, too. "You know, I thought about warning you, but it's like going through a fun-house. It's not fun if you already know when all the crazy stuff is gonna happen."

"Is that what you call it? Fun?"

"Shut up."

The two boys stopped for food, then Dee dropped him off at his house, muttering a swear word when he saw Drake's belongings strewn all over the yard. Without asking, he got out and helped him pick it up, then he received a thanks and headed home. The young man finished up that other half of his cigarette plus one, then he pushed open the front door. He moved all of his things in the foyer and left them against the wall. At least Julio had helped him pack somewhat. Drake spoke to his cats when they ran to greet him and he rubbed the tops of their heads, then he went into the kitchen to clean up the puddle of urine at the bottom of the stairs. When all that was done, Drake showered just in case he had to leave and wouldn't get the chance to again, then he laid down and went right to sleep.

* * *

"Hey, I'm at lunch now," Drake said into his cell phone. Smoke left his mouth as he spoke.

"How are rehearsals going?"

"Better today."

"Good. You bought Dee's lunch?"

"Yeah."

"And kept the receipt?"

"Yeah, it's in my wallet so I don't lose it."

"Good."

"How's Julio?"

"We're waiting for someone to bring the release forms and then we're gonna head home."

"I haven't had the chance to talk to Gem yet about staying with him." The more he thought about it, the more he realized how awkward living with Mr. Hayfer would be. He'd definitely take his wife up on her offer if it came down to it, but he wanted to explore more options first.

"Why don't you hold off on that for a while?" Ricardo said. "I think we need to all get together and discuss everything first. I don't think Julio wants you to go. I've been talking to him about everything you told me and he said he can remember bits and pieces, but it's all just a blur. He seemed genuinely upset when I told him how he's been treating you."

"But he wanted me gone when he was drunk and you know how brutally honest drunk people are."

"I just think we all need to stick together. We can work this out."

Drake sighed. He was quiet for a moment, then he said, "I just don't think I'm good for him."

"Are you kidding me? You're exactly who he needs right now. You know exactly what he's going through. You can teach him much more than I can because you've actually lived through it."

"He doesn't wanna hear that shit from me, Ricky. He doesn't wanna believe that he was on the same road that I was and that he could've become that guy pimping himself out at the truck stop. You know your brother's got a lot of pride."

"Hey, the doctor just walked in, so I have to go, but look. Don't ask Gemini yet, okay? Let's at least discuss this over dinner. I'll order some take-out and all three of us can sit down and figure out how we're going from here."

"Alright, fine."

"Okay. Oh, and Dee's gonna bring you home today. Is that okay?"

"Yeah."

"See you at home."

"See ya." Drake hung up and put his phone away, then put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the trash can lid and went back inside. He found the table where a group of eleven _Rent_ cast members were seated and he took the spot next to Dee.

"How's Julio?" the man said quietly as not to interrupt the conversation that was going on between the others.

"He's coming home today."

"You don't seem really happy about it."

"No, I am. I'm just — Ricky wants do to this whole family meeting thing. Julio's not gonna say how much he hates me in front of his brother and he's not gonna tell me to leave, but we both know he wants me gone. Shit's just gonna build back up until the next explosion. I just feel like I should go."

"Maybe it'll be different this time."

Drake only shrugged.

"Did he tell you I'm your ride home today?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, Dee," someone a couple seats down said, "what was that joke you told me earlier? Layla wants to hear it."

The man's attention was pulled in another direction, so Drake picked up his fork and started eating his mandarin oranges. He was a little jealous of how easily Dee talked to everyone here. He used to be like that back in school, but that had all changed somehow and having to speak to strangers made him feel anxious.

"So, Drake."

He couldn't hear the girl next to him because she had put her hand on his shoulder. The second she did this, a thousand unwanted memories protruded his mind and he flinched.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" It was the girl who played Mimi. Her nickname was Sal.

"Sorry," Drake stuttered as he pulled himself back to the present. He couldn't stop himself from rolling his shoulder, not-so-subtly brushing her hand away. He immediately felt rude and embarrassed, but he hated unexpected touches. "I was just — my mind was somewhere else," was his excuse for freaking out. He swore that she leaned closer ever so slightly.

"You don't talk much," she said.

"I'm..." He shrugged.

"So you're shy now?"

 _Now?_ "We...?"

"Went to high school together?" she finished. "Yeah."

"Oh... Right." He shook his head and blinked his eyes as if he now recalled this.

She laughed. "It's okay. You don't have to pretend you remember me. I wouldn't expect you to. I was that dorky kid with glasses and acne and a hundred extra pounds. Guys like you never noticed girls like me." She definitely didn't look the same now. She was thin, had clear skin and wore contacts. She was Puerto Rican and her skin was dark. Her black hair was long and wavy and she wore clothes that showed off a lot of skin.

"Oh, I'm..." He felt even more anxious. "I'm sorry." Apologizing made him feel awkward. "I was a dick in high school. You look good now, though." The fact that she had touched him had thrown him off and he was rambling on more than normal, digging himself into a deeper hole. "Not that you didn't then. I'm sure you looked good then, too. I just mean...um..."

Her eyes squinted with amusement as she grinned. "It's okay," she said. "So you're not as smooth as you used to be."

Drake looked down at his oranges. He felt his cheeks getting hot with embarrassment and those familiar memories of his father came back when she touched his shoulder again. So many emotions were rushing through him at once and he felt embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it. Everyone changes after high school."

He felt like she was getting closer still and there was less air to breathe."

"So how are things now? What did you do after graduation?"

He never graduated. He spent the time he was supposed to be studying with Mindy getting high with her and fucking her instead. Back then, while his classmates were packing for college, he was just trying to survive life with his father.

It was getting hard to breathe, but he couldn't leave her question unanswered. However, he had been stuck in his own mind and really couldn't comprehend the meaning to the words she had asked. "Um..." He was starting to sweat.

Sal's brows furrowed. "Are you okay?"

Her hand moved across his back. It was innocent, like she was offering comfort. She was just the kind of person who touched and hugged often, but all Drake could feel was Martin pushing on his back to bend him over the kitchen counter before tearing his clothes off. He yanked away from her and jumped onto his feet so suddenly that he almost knocked his chair over. The table went silent and all eyes were on him.

"Sorry. Um..." Water was building up in his eyes and everyone was seeing this and Drake couldn't breathe. "I have to go."

With that, he bolted towards the door, then turned towards the side parking lot. He found Dee's car and, since it was locked, he leaned against it and bent his knees until he was on his bottom, hidden from the world. Here, he broke down. Flashbacks of being pinned down played in his head. He could hear his father shushing him and calling him names as if he were right next to him. He felt a weight on top of him that kept him from breathing. The young man choked out a few sobs. He pulled his knees closer to his chest to make himself small. He rested his elbows on his knees as he brushed through and pulled at his hair.

 _Shut the fuck up, you fucking faggot. We both know you're enjoying this. I saw how much you came last time. Enough to put out a damn forest fire._

Drake's back jerked as more sobs left him. He covered his red hot face with shame. He could remember trying to straighten, then being shoved forwards again, harder this time.

 _The fuck do you think you're going? You think you're tough? You're not. You're_ weak. _You think you're stronger than me? Try it. Go ahead. Try it. See? You can't do shit._ I _control you. You do what_ I _want. Now keep still, you pathetic fucking bitch, or you'll get a whole fist up your ass. You want me to do that again?_

 _Nooo..._

 _No, what?_

 _No, sir._

 _Huh?!_

 _No, sir. Please..._

 _Then you keep fucking still, you cock-sucking little fuck._

Dee jogged to the corner of the building and slowed down when he saw the parking lot. He glanced around and saw no one. When he found Drake, it was because he heard him growling through clenched teeth.

"Hey, what happened?" he asked.

The young man gasped for air and clenched his fists so tight in his hair that his knuckles turned white.

Dee pulled out his phone, then immediately called his boyfriend, who answered on the third ring.

"Hey." He was already concerned because it was strange for the man to call while with Drake since Ricky had just talked to Drake.

"Hey, I think Drake's having a panic attack. I don't know what to do."

"Shit. Okay, put him on the phone."

"Hey, Drake. It's Ricardo. He wants to talk to you."

The boy didn't take the phone. He didn't even seem to acknowledge him.

"He's gonna help you calm down, okay?" After a moment, he said, "He's not taking it."

"Put me on speaker," Ricardo said.

Dee did. "Alright, you're on."

"Drake, it's Ricardo. I know you're going through a tough time right now, but me and Dee are gonna help you out, okay?"

The scared young man's growling and moaning and crying got even louder.

"Look, I want you to start breathing with me, okay? Follow my lead, alright. Breathe in... Try to hold it... And out. Let's try again. In—"

The sun was shining bright and birds were chipping, cars were speeding by on the main road, sprinklers were squeaking. Too much was going on and the scratchy sound of Ricardo's voice on speaker wasn't helping at all, so Drake violently slapped Dee's hand, sending the phone flying across the concrete.

"That's not helping," Dee told his boyfriend after he retrieved his cell phone and took it off speaker.

The man paused. "Where are you?"

"We're in the parking lot of Subway."

"Okay, I'm two exits away. I'm gonna come down there."

Dee could tell that he was already on the move.

Through the phone, Ricardo could hear Drake's growls turn into throaty yells that were only muffled by his teeth. "Do you think you can get him in the car and meet me in the middle?"

"I can try."

"Okay, just take a right when you get off the exit and take another right on the first road you come to. There's this empty unpaved lot on the side of the road."

"Two rights. Got it."

"And don't touch him, okay?"

"I won't."

"Alright, I'll see you in a minute."

"Okay."

After they hung up the phone, Dee went back over to his friend and squatted down in front of him. "Drak-"

"GUUUGGHHH!"

"Drake, we're gonna go meet Ricardo, okay? He's gonna help you. I need you to get in the car."

The boy made no movements.

"Ricardo always helps you through these, right? If we go now, we'll be there in five minutes and then this will all be over and you'll feel much better. Can we do that?"

His fit continued, but he did nod his head.

"Alright, can you stand? Do you need help up?"

Instead of grabbing him, he held out his hand for Drake to take if he needed it. He did. He opened the back door so he'd have more space and the young man got in. Dee hurried around to the other side of the car and saw Drake hitting the back of the passenger's seat. Apparently, he didn't have enough space. The driver reached over and pressed a lever to make the seat fold up, then he moved his hand to the bar under the front of the seat and scooted it up. This gave Drake space to hunch over and hide his head between his knees as he continued to scream uncontrollably.

When they made it to the lot, Ricardo was already there. Rocks crackled underneath the tires as Dee pulled in. It was literally just an abandoned parking lot. There were no buildings or anything around at all.

Ricky opened the door almost before the car came to a stop. "Hey, Drake." Despite how frantic the situation was, he spoke calmly, which was really important. "You wanna come sit out here and get some air?"

He did. The car felt small and made him claustrophobic. He got out and leaned against the metal. Dee hung back to give them space, but he watched closely so that he wasn't so clueless if this ever happened again. He noticed that Ricardo kept his distance and that he got down on a knee despite the rocks so that he was at eye level.

"I brought this to help."

It was a large hospital cup. It was Julio's, but Ricardo must've taken it. It had ice inside because he remembered Drake telling him about the technique Samantha had used to help him through an anxiety attack.

Drake took the ice cube that Ricardo passed him and squeezed it in his hand. The man talked to him and breathed with him and when the cold became unbearable, he moved the ice cube to his other hand. It took around five minutes just to get Drake to stop screeching and about twenty to fully calm him.

"Talk to me. How ya doing?"

His voice came out almost inaudibly as he weakly hung his head. "Good." He definitely wasn't doing good, so Ricardo knew that this was a lie.

"Why don't we try some more ice?"

Drake took some and put it on his face instead. It was a hot July day and the sun was beating right down on him.

"I have some water in the car. Do you wanna pour some water on your face to cool off?"

Drake nodded.

"Babe, can you grab that bottle of water out of the cup holder?"

Dee did and passed it over to him. It was still chilled because he had just gotten it out of the vending machine just before receiving the call. He poured it on Drake's face for him since the boy still couldn't do much along the lines of thinking or moving.

"Don't think about it. Just answer this question without replaying in your head what led up to your panic attack. Do you wanna talk about it?" Ricardo had learned that asking this kind of question without warning could start the entire attack over again and he had found that this was the best way to word it because Drake's brain was always tired and barely working afterwards, so if the man told him not to think, he wouldn't.

"No."

"Alright. Here, drink some of this water." He handed the bottle to him and Drake obeyed.

"Sorry to pull you away from the hospital." The boy's voice was phlegmatic.

"Don't worry about it."

"I don't think the medicine's working."

"Let's talk about that later, okay?" Since both of the sentences Drake had spoken were things that could lead to a repeat attack, he chose the next subject. "Was that enough water or do you need some more?" It wasn't much of a conversation starter, but it would put the young man in the present rather than the past or future and would focus on basic survival instincts, which wasn't something Drake really had to think about too much in order to make a decision.

"Do you have more?"

"I don't, but there's a gas station right up the road. I can get some or we can all go together."

"I have a bottle in my car," Dee offered. He got it for them and Ricardo thanked him.

Drake felt like he had just had an intense workout in the hot sun, so he was dying of thirst. After he swallowed that water down, he said, "I'm feeling better now."

"That's good." Ricardo was pouring with sweat, but he acted as though it didn't bother him.

"We're late." He was talking about rehearsals, but they actually had another fifteen minutes.

"That's okay. You don't have to rush to get back. You can just go when you feel like it or you can come back with me and we'll pick up Julio and go home.

Rehearsals sounded less daunting. "I'll get in trouble if I leave early without saying."

"That's okay. I can call them or Dee can tell them when he goes back."

"I'll go."

"Are you sure?"

Drake nodded.

After a couple more minutes, Drake stood and got into the passenger's side of Dee's car. He waiting inside while the couple talked. Ricardo thanked his boyfriend for responding so quickly before things got too out of control. He appreciated him having Drake's back and for calling him. He gave the man a kiss before they both separated and left.

The drive back to the theater was silent. Despite being stopped by what felt like every red light possible, they made it back right on time. Drake had to pee after his anxiety attack, so he went into the bathroom and relieved himself, then he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. Even that didn't bring him out of his trance. He felt like a zombie. He was so exhausted that his feet dragged as he walked, but his heart was still beating fast. He still felt nervous, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been.

When Drake got to their rehearsal space, Allie was working with those who played Mimi and Roger, including their understudies. Right now, the understudy for Mimi was standing without a partner. When Drake joined her, he received a glare from Allie.

"Nice of you to finally join us."

Sal turned and looked in his direction with furrowed brows. She had no idea what had happened to him at lunch and where he had disappeared to. Drake avoided her eyes.

* * *

"Okay, so," the girl named Hollie said as she passed the phone back to Dee, "just text me and let me know when you're free and we can hang out."

He was in a group of about five people who were all exchanging numbers. Hollie continued to speak to him, but his attention was on Allie, who was approaching Drake on the other side of the practice room like she was on some kind of mission.

"I think it would be great for the whole cast to get together and hang out more often," the girl was saying. "We'll become one big family, just like the characters we're playing."

Dee could tell that Allie wasn't happy although he could only see one half of her face. After a moment, he saw Drake wipe his eyes, then hang his head.

"That's a good idea, right?" Hollie said.

"Um...right. Excuse me."

Without even so much as glancing at her, he broke away from the group and crossed the rehearsal space. The one-sided conversation was over between Allie and Drake, so Drake headed out of the large room. Dee jogged after him and entered the main hall just in time to see the bathroom door close. He moved in that direction, then tried to walk inside, but it wouldn't budge. He knocked.

"Drake, it's me. Open the door."

The boy could be heard sighing. He sniffled and wiped the water from his eyes, then got up from his spot where he was sitting on the floor, blocking the door. He let Dee in.

"Hey, you about ready?" Drake was trying to act casual and as if he hadn't just been crying, but Dee's next question made him emotional all over again.

"What did Allie just say to you?"

He couldn't deny it because the man had clearly seen her yelling at him. "She just got onto me for being late and I tried to tell her that I was here. I was just in the bathroom, but she said if I'm not in the practice room, then I'm not here." He felt the lump in his throat growing bigger as more tears left his eyes. He wiped them away with frustration. "I don't know why I'm crying. It's so stupid."

"It's not stupid."

Clearly, Drake's emotions were all over the place today and the panic attack had left him feeling even more vulnerable than his normal self. On days like these, literally anything could upset him and when he got upset, he always started wishing that he were dead.

"Did she say something else?" Dee questioned.

He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "Just about my voice. She said it was fine earlier and then after lunch-" A sob broke through his lips as he replayed the horrible insults she had said to him. Today was one of those days where he couldn't stop seeing his father everywhere he went. Drake wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I'm sorry. This is so fucking embarrassing."

"Hey, you don't have to feel that way around me."

Drake sniffled, then moved over to the sink to splash water on his face. He took some breaths and sniffled some more. "Are you almost ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'm ready now."

Drake kept his head down as they went down the hallway and through the front doors. They received a few goodbyes on their way, but he never met anyone's eyes because he didn't want them to see that he'd been crying. He took a breath when he was finally in the sanctity of Dee's car.

"Sorry for rushing you," Drake apologized.

Before his meltdown, Dee had been chatting with a small group of cast members and he'd seemed to be enjoying himself. "It's okay. I was ready to get out of there anyway. My mom's coming to visit tonight and I have to clean the house."

"Thanks for taking the time to drive me home. I can give you gas money after I clear it with Ricky."

"Don't worry about it. It's really not too far out of the way."

"Are you on the schedule for tomorrow?" Drake asked.

They had a schedule for what characters needed to be at the theater each day.

"Yep. You?"

"No."

"That's good. You can take a day to rest and clear your head. Meditation can help."

"You meditate?"

"I do."

Drake shook his head and rolled his eyes as a small chuckle left him. Of course Mr. Perfect meditated. "I should've known."

"Shut the fuck up," Dee said lightly. "It's very calming."

"I don't meditate. I medi _cate_." After a moment of silence, he looked at the driver. "That was a joke. I don't — I'm not still using."

"It's okay. I believe you."

"Ricky would be pissed if he heard me say that. He doesn't like my drug jokes. He always lectures me for them."

Dee laughed. "I can actually picture that."

"I was just born during the age where we all meme about our pain and make self-deprecating jokes. Ricky doesn't understand that."

"So you're saying he's old?"

"I mean..."

"You know he's only one year older than me, right?"

"Oof. You're getting old, too."

Dee scoffed. "Bitch."

Drake laughed.

* * *

Ricardo was standing outside after having asked Drake how far away they were. Dee pulled the car into his driveway and the man went over to his window as Drake got out of the car and lit a cigarette.

"Hey, cutie," he said flirtatiously, then he leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "How was your day?"

"Oh, you know. Pretty uneventful," he joked as he reached out the window and grasped his boyfriend's hand in his. "How long have you and your brother been here?"

"A couple hours. We've just been doing a lot of talking and planning. He said he'll start going to AA, so that's a win."

"You think it's all bullshit?"

Ricky sighed. "I think he's serious, but apparently I don't know him as well as I thought I did."

"How's he doing?"

"He goes back and forth with his emotions a bit. Hearing how close he came to dying really scared him."

"Yeah, I can't even imagine."

If Drake hadn't walked in when he did, Julio would've choked on his own vomit. Dee was so glad that his boyfriend didn't have to come home to find his little brother dead on the kitchen floor. Ricardo has been through so much lately. He was always being strong for other people and that's one of the things Dee liked about him.

"What about Drake? How did he do today? He looks like he's been crying again."

"Things were alright until rehearsals ended. Allie got onto him again and she can be horrible. He told me how she spoke to him and the names she's called him. I suggested going to one of the others, but he didn't want to. I think he's scared of her."

"Jesus." Ricky's brows furrowed with disbelief. "I'll try to talk to him about it. He just got clean. She's the last type of person he needs to be around."

"I told him I'd go with him for moral support if he wants to speak out, so let me know."

"Thanks, babe. You're the best," Ricardo said. "Our children are a hot mess today."

Dee laughed at this. It definitely felt like they were both parents tag-teaming their emotionally unstable kids. Ricky had watched over Julio and Dee had watched over Drake. They still took up a lot of the man's attention, but Dee was okay with that because he wasn't keeping secrets from him. They were in this together, which is what he'd wanted all along. He never minded the chaos and spontaneity, although it was a transition. He only ever wanted to be included. Being left in the dark had made him feel unimportant, but now things were better. They were partners.

"I love you," Dee said as he gave the man's hand a squeeze.

Ricardo smiled. "I love you, too."

He leaned in again and connected their lips. They stayed that way for much longer this time. Dee put his hand on the man's cheek. He wished Ricardo could forget about the two boys, hop in his car and come back home with him. He missed the way it felt to hold him close — the heat and electricity that rushed through him when they were tangled up in bed. It felt like it's been forever since they've touched each other like that.

Ricardo could tell that he was getting aroused by his heavy breaths and the sweat coating his skin and the way Dee's hand moved to the back of his head as if he was desperate to keep him close. He pulled back with a smirk.

"We're taking this slow. Remember?" It had been Dee's idea in the first place.

"I know. Sorry, I just... I miss you."

"I miss you, too. God, you have no idea how much I miss you."

"Believe me. I do."

"You know, what we _could_ do..." Ricardo looked at the ground. He wore a smile that was both innocent and mischievous at the same time and Dee found it so adorable that he couldn't help but grin when he saw it.

"What's that?" he asked with intrigue.

"Maybe after I get the kids to bed, if you're up late..." He was rubbing the man's arm and his voice was slow and enticing. "...and I'm up late, and we're both gonna jerk off thinking about each other anyway..."

Dee hung onto every last word like it was the air that he breathed.

"...then maybe I can call you and we can do it together."

"Are you asking me for hot phone sex?"

"I might be." He smirked.

"Like we're back in high school."

"Mm-hmm," he said seductively.

"Except I was fucking my English teacher in high school.

"You can call me Mr. Santos if you want."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And what if I've been a bad student?"

"Oh, you need to be punished, huh?"

"Yeah." He nodded and bit his lip as he gazed at Ricardo's lips. It took everything in him not to jump his bones right here in the middle of the driveway.

"Well, you make sure you bring a ruler to class and we can take care of that."

"You're gonna make me spank myself, Mr. Santos?"

"Well, you've gotta learn your lesson somehow, don't you?"

Dee grinned. He pulled his boyfriend's hands up to his mouth and kissed it. "Can't wait."

Ricardo hungrily connected their lips again. They stayed like this for a few more seconds before pulling apart.

"Eleven o'clock. Don't be late."

"Yes, sir."

Ricardo finally mustered up the strength to pull away from the vehicle. He turned to start up the driveway and as he did this, Dee reached out and smacked his ass. Ricky turned his head back to him with a grin and his boyfriend wore one just as large, then he put his car and reverse and backed out of the driveway.

Drake was putting out his finished cigarette in the ashtray as the man approached the porch steps where he was sitting. "Y'all cute."

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop smiling.

"So you made plans to fuck, huh?" he said as he stood.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"No. I just figured since you were practically standing there humping the car door."

"Oh, fuck off," Ricky said. "You ready to go inside and have this family discussion?" He motioned towards the front door — not just to tell his friend to head inside, but also to tell him to stop being so annoying.

Of course, Drake wouldn't be Drake if he did that. He motioned for the older man to go ahead. "After you, Mr. Santos."

Ricardo looked at him and saw the giant smirk on his face. Apparently, he _had_ overheard their phone sex plans and it embarrassed him. "Call me that again and I'll beat your ass." He was using his tough guy voice, which is something that had come in handy working at a bar.

"With a ruler?" Drake asked.

Ricardo playfully, yet roughly gave the boy a shove. It was so hard that it knocked him off the porch steps and onto the grass. He just managed to land on his feet with the help of his hand, which he used to balance himself once it touched the dirt. He was laughing hysterically now.

Despite how irritated Ricardo was, he was glad to hear that sound. However, he didn't show this. He just walked up the rest of the steps without looking back. "Just for that shit, you're doing dishes and taking out the trash tonight."

Sarcastically, he said, "Yes, sir, Mr. Santos, sir."

"Boy-"

Ricardo turned and stomped towards him. Drake was on his feet in an instant as he backed away. He knew he was in for it when the man came down the steps after him.

"Ricky, don't," he managed through his laughter. He jogged further away, but his roommate still came after him. "Stop! I'm just fucking with you, bruh."

There was nothing in between himself and Drake, but he couldn't just run straight at him. He had to let his friend make the first move. The young man faked left, then went right. Ricardo was light on his toes, so he was ready for this. He tackled him to the ground and got on top of him to keep him pinned.

"Get off!" His arm was folded behind his back and he couldn't move. However, he didn't have a single flashback or bad memory run through his head.

"Say mercy!"

"Fucking get off!"

"Say it!"

"No!"

Ricardo bent his arm even further.

"Ah!"

"You give up?"

"Fuck you!" Drake felt a sharp pain in his arm and although it really hurt, it was just playful roughhousing without any intentional violence. He trusted that Ricardo would stop if it got to the point where his past started to cloud his mind, but if that didn't happen, he knew he wasn't going to be let up until he admitted defeat. "You're gonna break my fucking arm!"

"Say mercy!"

Drake growled with aggravation, but he couldn't keep withholding when his arm was positioned in an even more uncomfortable position. "Okay! Okay! Mercy!"

Now it was Ricardo's turn to laugh while Drake was annoyed. He got off the boy, then held out his hand for him to take. He did, but he wasn't happy about it.

"Fucking asshole," Drake pouted. He often lost these things against both Ricky and his brother and it always made him mad afterwards.

"Aw, are you gonna cry about it now?" He wrapped an arm across his friend's shoulders and pulled the boy's head against his waist, trapping him while he gave him a noogie.

"Ow! Fuck, Ricky!" He tried to escape from the painful sensation of the man rubbing his knuckles against his scalp, but he couldn't get away until Ricardo allowed him to go. He backed away and combed his fingers through his hair to make it neater, then he fixed his shirt. "You're a dick."

"Well," the man shrugged, huffing tiredly now, "you are what you eat, right?"

Drake didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing him chuckle at his joke, but he couldn't stop himself. This made his roommate smile.

Ricky wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders again, but in a friendly way this time, and he led him towards the porch steps. "See, and that's why you're a dick _and_ a pussy."

"I hate you."

The two men made their way inside and Ricardo led Drake into the living room, where Julio was sitting on the couch. Their were some to-go boxes filled with Chinese food that had just recently been delivered and Ricardo already had cups, silverware, napkins, plates and a two-liter soda so that no one had any excuse to leave the room until their discussion was over. Julio was sitting on the side of the couch that was closest to the entrance, so Drake went over to his normal side in the corner because he knew that Ricky always had dibs on the recliner. No one reached for a plate until the oldest did first and they added food to them in silence.

Even after they all had food and drink, Ricardo didn't begin the conversation. Drake hated the silence, so he did.

"So—" He cleared his throat, but continued to speak quietly. "—how are you feeling?" He glanced at Julio, then averted his eyes when the boy looked back at him.

"I'm okay."

He continued to stare at his friend as if he were seeing the bruises on his face for the first time, which in a sense, he was. He felt extremely guilty. Apparently, Drake had filled Ricardo in on what he knew of the last few months and Ricardo had then filled his brother in. He couldn't remember throwing his best friend against the wall and threatening to kill him, but he did recall falling down the stairs. He couldn't remember beating Drake up, but he did recall looking down at him while he lay bloody and unconscious on the kitchen floor. He couldn't remember driving, but he did recall being placed in handcuffs. He couldn't remember throwing all of Drake's personal belongings out on the front lawn, but he did recall staring up at the ceiling after falling and being unable to move. Ricardo had filled him in on everything, including all the nasty things he had said to his best friend. He'd threatened to kill him just like his father had and he'd beaten the shit out of him just like his father had. Even after all of that, Drake remained loyal. He'd slept in the same room to make sure that he didn't choke on his own vomit and he'd borrowed a fuck-ton of money to bail him out of jail knowing that he'd never be able to pay him back — not in the time Gemini and Rhinestone would expect the money back. Julio did all of this to him and Drake kept it all a secret for him because he didn't want it to worsen his already deteriorating relationship with his brother.

It was obvious by his actions that Drake believed he deserved everything Julio had done to him and, at the time, Julio had probably believed it, too, but that wasn't true. They definitely had some issues. There was jealousy and anger inside of him, but the way he had gone about dealing with those feelings was wrong.

One thing he did remember clearly was the fight that they'd had just before everything fell apart. Ricardo figured out that he had been the one who hurt Drake and things escalated quickly. He could remember how infuriated he was. His brother cared so deeply for their roommate and it was a relationship that he was jealous of. He couldn't stand having Ricardo yell at him, so he'd turned everything around on Drake. Despite his friend's loyalty, he flipped everything on him the first chance he got. He'd wanted to destroy what Drake and Ricky had. He'd wanted his best friend out of their lives. He'd wanted him out of this house, knowing full well that he'd most likely end up living on the streets and back on drugs. Julio had actually _wanted_ that for him. He could remember wanting him to suffer. He could remember wanting him to die.

However, Drake was a different person now. He'd vowed to get sober and it looked like he meant business this time. He left like Julio had demanded, but he didn't go to Tad's or the truck stop or anywhere else druggie Drake would've gone. He went for help, got the encouragement he needed, then he came back to the house of his evictor, his hater, his abuser. He'd refused to give up on him without a fight. Julio couldn't remember the last time his friend had actually fought for something and that made him feel important.

Drake had walked in that house and found Julio at his lowest. He was covered in his own piss and shit and vomit, but he didn't leave him. Despite the paralyzing memories of sitting next to a dying Meelah and a dying Martin, Drake sat next to a dying Julio and saved his life. He had every opportunity to say fuck it and get high, but he chose not to. He chose sobriety. He chose to keep fighting. He chose Julio.

Suddenly, Drake noticed his friend choke out a sob. When he looked up at him, he was hanging his head and he continued to cry.

"I'm sorry," he said pitifully.

The young man's heart fell. He put his food down and moved into the empty space that had been between them on the couch. "No, I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around Julio, his heart aching for his friend. "I've been a shitty friend."

Julio was crying so hard now that his back jerked and it was hard for him to speak clearly. "I don't know why I treated you like that."

"It's okay. It's really okay."

"It's not. I fucking hit you."

The fact that his best friend was feeling so low made Drake cry, too. "It's okay. I've done a lot of bad things to you, too, but I'm trying to be better. I don't wanna keep hurting you."

Ricardo stayed quiet as the two boys hugged each other tightly and cried into one another's shoulders. Things were gonna get better. He had hope.

"I'm gonna-" Drake sniffled. "I'm gonna stay with Gem for a little while."

"No."

"I want you and Ricky to spend more time together. I don't wanna get in the way of that anymore."

"I don't want you to go."

"I think it would be best if you guys had a break from all my chaos."

"I need you here."

Drake felt his friend hold on tighter as if refusing to let him go. Those weren't words he heard often. In fact, he couldn't remember ever feeling needed. Everywhere he went, it was like he was someone who could just be easily discarded or replaced, but not here. No one could ever take his place here. He could tell that Julio was being genuine. Usually, "I need you here" would mean "You need to be here for _your_ sake." For the first time in a long time, he wasn't just saying this for fear of what would happen to Drake if he didn't have them. Julio feared what would happen to himself without having his best friend by his side. Finally, he was being selfish and it was long overdue.

"I'll always be here for you," Drake said.

"So you'll stay?"

"Of course. If that's what you want."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, I wanna stay."

Julio breathed a sigh of relief, but his weeping continued. "I...I need help, Drake."

"I know."

"I'm all fucked up."

"It's okay. I've been there and it's not impossible to get better."

Again, his crying picked up and more sobs left him. "I'm scared."

Drake's heart was broken. He knew exactly how his best friend was feeling and it made him sick knowing that Julio was going through that. He's been in that same spot before. He knew just how terrifying it was — how lonely it felt.

Ricardo stood now and moved around the coffee table so that he was in front of the two. He got on his knees to be at eye level. "We're gonna get through this." He put an arm on his brother's back for supposed and Julio pulled away from Drake and hugged the man. "Together." Ricky pulled Drake into the embrace and held them tightly. "Somos un familia."

"Somos un familia," both boys repeated.

* * *

Drake heard the bedroom door open as he retrieved another bottle of Jack Daniels from under the bed. This one still had a bit in it. He turned to see Julio fresh out of the shower. The young man stood and put the bottle in the box he had on the bed. So far, he'd found nine bottles — some big, some small — around Julio's bedroom. Some were empty and some weren't. How had he and Ricardo missed the severity of this?

"Sorry, I was trying to finish before you got out," Drake said.

He caught his friend gazing at the box and it made him nervous. Getting rid of his alcohol was a big, but necessary step. This was a fragile time for Julio, though. He could change his mind and give up at any moment. However, instead of contemplating whether or not to relapse, he went over to his dresser and reached behind it, pulling out another bottle. He passed it to Drake.

"That's the last one."

Drake stared at it a moment before taking it. He put it in the box with the others. "Thanks. Is there any, like, in your car or anything?"

"My flask's in the compartment between the front seats."

Drake nodded. He stayed quiet for a moment because he didn't know exactly what he should say. "Ricardo might wanna talk to you tomorrow about some ideas. Random room searches or...something like that. He won't do it if you don't want him to, but...it's just up to you. It just makes him feel better, but it makes people like us more creative about hiding things."

People like us. Never in a million years would Julio have ever guessed that he'd be on the same playing field as Drake. After all the years of stress and worry and anger and fear — after all that time placing blame — now he was in the same boat and he couldn't remember how he had gotten here.

"I'm gonna get rid of these," Drake said. "I was gonna...sleep in here...if that's okay with you?"

Julio appreciated this so much, but he was too prideful to show just how much. "Sure."

"I can make a palette on the floor. You won't even know I'm here."

"It's okay. We can share the bed."

"Okay." Drake smiled. His voice changed now that all of the serious talk was out of the way. "Okay, so I'll be back in a bit." He carried the box downstairs and into the kitchen, then he immediately went out to the car to retrieve the flask before he forgot.

Roughly five minutes later, Ricardo, who had just finished up in the laundry room, followed the sound of clanking glass to the kitchen, where he found Drake emptying bottles of Jack Daniels and cans of Dos Equis into the sink.

"Hey," he said.

Drake turned and glanced at him. "Hey."

"Is that all of them?"

"I think so."

The man moved across the kitchen and stood next to him, watching him pour the addictive substance down the drain. "I guess it goes without saying that this is now an alcohol-free home. No more stocking the fridge or coming home smelling like booze."

"Got it."

"Did you get that bottle of tequila nobody ever drinks in the back of the fridge?"

"No, I forgot that."

Ricardo opened the refrigerator and moved some things on the top shelf to the side. "I don't see it in here." He checked the other shelves.

"He probably drank it when he was low in cash," Drake said. "I'll ask when I get back up there."

"You staying in his room tonight?"

"Yeah. He said it was okay."

The man nodded. He was glad that his brother wasn't protesting this. They stayed quiet for a little while and just listened to the sound of liquid hitting the sink, but finally, Ricardo spoke again.

"Hey, thanks for being the first one to break the silence in there. I thought if I started the conversation, everything would feel forced. I wanted you guys to make up, but I didn't wanna stop him from getting out his true feelings if you two really were no good for each other and I didn't wanna make you stay if you were gonna feel uncomfortable. I think things went well today."

Drake agreed. Now he had his best friend back. "I think so, too."

Ricardo offered to dispose of the empty containers, so Drake got things ready for the expected long night ahead. He got a couple bottles of water, Gatorades that Ricardo had picked up on the way home from the hospital, a toothbrush and toothpaste, Advil, a miniature trash can and extra trash bags. He changed into some pajamas and brushed his teeth, then he went into his friend's room. He found Julio already asleep. As quietly as possibly, he set the trash can and drinks next to his side of the bed and carefully laid down on the other side.

* * *

Drake jerked awake when he felt movement. He opened his eyes to see Julio sitting up next to him.

"I'm gonna throw up." He gagged.

The young man shot up and pointed his sick friend towards the trash can. Vomit spewed from his mouth like a geyser. Drake got up and went into the bathroom to wet a washcloth. He brought it back just as the boy finished up.

"Here."

"Guh, I feel like shit," he groaned.

"I know. I'm sorry." He felt bad that there was nothing he could do to make him feel better. "I brought your toothbrush if you wanna brush your teeth."

Julio just shook his head as he laid back down. Drake tied the strings on the garbage bag and pulled it out of the bin, then he went over to the window and opened it. When Ricardo had taken the bottles and cans to dump them, Drake had asked him to move the trash can underneath Julio's window. He dropped the bag and it landed inside.

"Did you just throw it out the fucking window?" the young man asked with disorientation.

"The trash can's right there." Drake got on his knees in front of him and opened one of the bottles that was on the nightstand. "Here, drink some water." He swapped with Julio, giving him the liquid in exchange for the damp rag. After that, he picked up the roll of trash bags and pulled another one off, then fit it against the inner walls of the can.

"Everything hurts," Julio whined.

"I got some Advil." Drake immediately jumped into action, wanting to do anything he could to ease his friend's pain, even if it was just a little bit. He noticed that the sick young man was trembling as he accepted the pills.

There was no more sleeping for the remainder of the night. It was mainly just Julio complaining and Drake doing whatever he could to offer comfort. He made sure to keep him hydrated, but despite the shaking, he was sweating so much that it drenched the sheets. Julio removed everything but his boxers and Drake got more wet washcloths for his forehead torso and each leg. Even that wasn't enough, so he had to turn the central air unit lower, turn on his fan and bring in the fans out of his and Ricardo's bedrooms. Drake was freezing, so he put on another pair of pajama pants on top of the ones he was wearing, another shirt and a sweater.

He couldn't remember the last time he had stayed up all night without having Triple C's in his system, so everything seemed to be triggering him. He buried these thoughts with cigarettes. Ricardo had given him permission to smoke out of the bedroom window so he didn't stay gone long and often as long as Julio was okay with it. With all the fans going, he wouldn't be able to smell it.

"Drake?" came Julio's weak, trembling voice. He was pitiful.

The boy turned towards him. "Yeah, bud?"

There was hesitation, but then he admitted, "I'm having bad thoughts." He was thinking about drinking. Of course he wanted to drink again. It was to be expected.

Drake tossed his unfinished cigarette, then sat down backwards on the bed so that he faced Julio. "I know. I know it's hard. I'm so sorry that you're going through this." His heart filled with sadness when he noticed that his friend was weeping. "I know I don't really say this as often as I should, but I love you and I'm so proud of you. I know you're feeling weak and scared right now, but it takes strength and courage to do what you're doing."

Before now — before saying this — Drake had considered his dad to be a strong person, but Martin never could make up his mind to stay sober. He wasn't strong at all. Julio was strong.

 _I am strong._

"Drake?"

"Yeah?" He scooted closer and picked up one of the rags on his friend's legs, then he slid it up and down his skin to cool him off. Afterwards, he did this with the next leg.

"I always talked about...wanting to die." His voice was hard to hear under all the fans and it reminded Drake how Charlie always made voices sound distant and distorted, too. "But I don't. I've been feeling so alone lately, but when I woke up in the hospital, my brother was right there and he told me what had happened and he just started crying. Like, really crying."

Drake listened as he took the wet washcloth from Julio's chest and rubbed it up and down his arms to wipe the sweat off.

"And Mamá was crying. And my dad was crying. I can't believe I did that to them."

"I know what you mean," Drake empathized.

"But for you...you wanted to die so bad that you kept trying."

The young man sighed. "I was in a bad place."

"You're still in that place. Right? I can tell."

He hesitated because he didn't know how to respond to this, but he decided to answer honestly. "I've never stopped wanting to die, no. Every morning when I wake up, I am just filled with this overwhelming, like...dread. I think about killing myself all the time. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere. Like, if I'm chopping vegetables, I picture myself slitting my own throat. Or when I drive over a bridge, I fantasize about jumping off." He saw the sad look in Julio's eyes and realized that he should be making sober living sound more fun. "But that's all they are," he was quick to say. "They're just fantasies. There's a line between fantasizing and contemplating — a thin one, but a line nonetheless. I don't let myself contemplate anymore. I swore I'd never act on those impulses, so when I'm thinking about slitting my own throat, I put the knife down and step away. When I wanna jump off a bridge, I press the gas pedal and keep driving past it." Drake wore a serious expression and even the tone of his voice changed as he looked Julio in the eyes. "I will _never_ do that to you again. _Ever._ I promise."

Julio nodded his thanks, then his face contorted as more tears came.

Drake leaned over and pulled him into a hug. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna get through this. We all will."

"I love you." Even though they had already said this to one another not too long ago, Julio hadn't said it first. He never said it first. He wanted Drake to know that he did actually love him and that he wasn't ever just replying because it was the natural thing to do. Every time he'd ever said it, he'd meant it.

"I know. I love you, too." He laughed before he even got Ricky's mantra out. "Somos un familia."

Despite how shitty he was feeling, Julio chuckled. "Somos un familia."

* * *

 **Author's Note: A little late, but here's the chapter. I'm sleepy and can't really think of anything to say. I wanna thank the person who reviewed last chapter for sticking with this story for so dang long when it seems like everyone else has lost interest in it. I've had a hard time writing because I like to make sure I stay a few chapters ahead of what I post and, in those chapters, I've stepped into some new territory. The story's going in a different direction and I like it, but I just have no idea what it means for the ending that kind of needs to come soon. I guess we'll see.**

 **I probably won't have another chapter out until after the New Year, so I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season. A review is a nice Christmas gift. Just throwing that out there. ;)**

 **Anyway, I don't have a whole lot to talk about. I'm just glad I'm finally pushing this chapter out. Until next time. CCC ya!**


	14. I See You

**Author's Note: I decided I'm gonna give a bit of a summary or note some key points that happened in previous chapters before I begin each chapter because I know a month or so goes by between each update and, with this lengthy series in particular, I reference or bring back things that happened in _Charlie Freak_ or _Charlie Horse_ , which I know can get confusing. Therefore, if you need a quick refresher, this space will be for you. (I don't think later chapter catch-ups will be this long or descriptive, but it's been a while, so I'm gong to cover the last few chapters somewhat in this one).**

 ** _— IF YOU DON'T NEED A REFRESHER, FEEL FREE TO SCROLL ON DOWN TO WHERE THE CHAPTER BEGINS. —_**

 **PREVIOUSLY ON SORRY, CHARLIE:**

 _ **Short Version** **:**_

 **~While still together, Dahlia used the fake Ricardo account she made to manipulate Drake into being more open to her ideas in bed. He agreed to a rape role-play, but got uncomfortable and used the safe-word. However, she gagged him so that he couldn't speak and kept going. She later bragged about this to Samantha and, when it because a whole thing, Drake stuck up for his fiancée. Samantha later told Julio and Ricardo about this.**

 **~Julio started drinking heavily and his hatred for Drake was growing rapidly.  
**

 **~Drake started taking antidepressants at the mental hospital.**

 **~Drake is in a casual sex relationship with Hero, a woman twice his age that he met in the mental hospital.**

 **~Drake landed a part in the local production of his favorite musical _Rent_. While there, he's forced to take verbal abuse from a director named Allie who has singled him out for seemingly no reason.**

 **~Drake admitted to a week-long relapse and swore he'd never use again. To earn Ricardo's trust back, he gave him permission to track his phone, monitor his purchases and conduct random room and bag searches. He is currently clean.**

 **~While out with the Rent crew, fellow cast-mate Sal flirtatiously touches him without permission and sends him into a panic attack. Ricardo and Dee help him through it and, upon returning to the theatre, he finds that things between himself and Sal are awkward.**

 **~Julio's alcoholism landed him a stay in the hospital. When he got out, he and Drake made up and Drake stayed with him that night to help him through withdrawals.**

 _ **Detailed Version:**_

 **Drake was engaged to Dahlia Martin (who also goes by Clementine or Clem). She was physically, verbally and emotionally abusive and took advantage of the feelings he had for her so that she could manipulate him into doing or feeling however she wanted. She even managed to turn him against his best friends Julio and Ricardo Santos by convincing him to skip his long-waited-for counselor's appointment, resulting in a heated blow-up between the four, which led Drake to have a panic attack. Unsympathetic, Dahlia offered him muscle relaxers that belonged to her roommate Brett Monty. An overdose followed and he ended up in the hospital. When he got out, now living with Dahlia, he proved his love to her by proposing. Ricardo finds out about the engagement on Facebook and tries to make amends with Drake via text message. However, Clementine had Drake's phone set up so that she could also receive his messages, notifications and location. She deleted the message before Drake could see it, then decided to create a fake account under Ricardo's name. From here, she sent nasty, vicious messages to Drake so that he would rely only on her. Plus, she used this tactic to convince him to do whatever she wanted. While taunting him for being bad at sex (under Ricardo's account since they once slept together before Ricky's coming out), Drake became insecure and felt the need to prove himself. Therefore, when Dahlia asked him to do things in bed that made him uncomfortable, he did them. During a rape role-play he went along with out of desperation to please her because he felt their relationship falling apart, Dahlia restrained him. Painful memories began flooding his head and it became to much for him, but when he pleaded with her to stop, even using their safe-word, she gagged him so that he could no longer speak and continued. She later bragged about this to roommate and girlfriend of Brett, Samantha Watson.**

 **Drake later learned, despite being warned many times before, that Dahlia had been cheating on him during the entirety of their relationship, so he packs his belongings and leaves. Believing that he couldn't return to the Santos house and distraught about the betrayal, Drake goes to the gay nightclub he frequented whilst staying with Gemini (while Ricardo came to terms with his sexuality and what had happened between himself and Drake). At the club, Josh, a chubby hipster, who Drake had danced with and given a blowjob to before, found the boy wasted at the bar and took him to his home, where Drake seduced him. After realizing that Josh had a boyfriend and knowing what it felt like to be cheated on, Drake left in a hurry and found himself at Ricardo's boyfriend Dee Christensen's house, where he broke down and told him about his fiancée cheating and the messages he had been receiving from Ricky. Still black-out drunk, he then tried to sleep with Dee. This behavior is later assumed to be a product of the sexual abuse in his past (from his father, Coach Tad from high school, an orderly at the mental hospital he was in when he was thirteen, Dahlia, and the men who took it too far when he was selling his body in exchange for drug money at a truck stop) and his recent bout with prostitution. It was speculated that he needs to feel needed and he was taught by his abusers that he was only wanted for sexual relief. In addition, while involved with sex work, he'd become accustomed to using sex as a form of payment. Because Dee took him in, treated him kindly and let him have his break-down, he, under the influence of alcohol, tried to offer him sexual gratification. Dee refused this, resulting in Drake feeling unwanted and unworthy. Drake then got angry and began throwing and breaking things until Dee had no choice but to hit him. Dee then called his boyfriend and this led to arguments between the two, which they had been having a lot lately due to Ricardo's inability to focus on anything other than his worry for Drake and the bad things that could happen because of his growing dependency on Dahlia.**

 **When Drake awoke, he had no recollection of anything after arriving at the nightclub and was filled in by Julio. Mortified and ashamed, he snuck out the first chance he could and, with nowhere else to go, he found himself at the truck stop, where he was showered to make himself presentable to the men he would have to offer his body to. Desperate for an out so that he wouldn't have to go back to his life of drugs and homelessness, he called Dahlia, apologized for making a huge deal out of her infidelity, and begged for another chance. She followed up by insulting him and making him feel horrible about himself, even going so far as to suggest he kill himself. Within minutes, he received a text from the fake Ricardo account also pushing him to commit suicide. Filled with hopelessness and self-loathing, he swallowed all the muscle relaxers leftover from the bottle he had stolen from Brett.**

 **Meanwhile, Alice Hayfer, Drake's eleventh and twelfth grade math teacher, was picking up her husband Garrett from the truck stop. She spoke bitterly, for she was still angry about finding her spouse paying her former student for sexual favors in his tractor two months before. Mr. Hayfer tried to discuss their upcoming appointment for couple's counseling and whether their son Daniel, who had committed suicide eight years ago at the age of twenty-two would be brought up during the session. Needing to relief his bladder, they stopped at the truck stop bathroom, where Garrett found Drake laying in one of the showers with a faint pulse. He phoned an ambulance and rushed to get his wife, who had to perform CPR multiple times until paramedics arrived.**

 **Back at the Santos house, everyone now knew of Drake's disappearance. Jealous and unable to understanding his boyfriend's extreme worry for a grown man, Dee begged to be brought into the loop so that he could offer help and support and work with his partner as a unit. Denied the answers he was searching for, he questioned if Drake was the friend Ricardo had previously mentioned sleeping with and asked if he had romantic feelings for Drake. He mentioned the shocking messages from the fake Ricardo account that he had been shown and asked if Ricky had told his ex roommate to kill himself because he was jealous that he chose Dahlia over him. Too focused on his desperation to find Drake to marinate on his confusion, Ricardo remembered being given permission to track his friend's phone a couple months before and found him at the truck stop. He promised to come right back and work things out with his boyfriend, but Dee was unable to fight with Drake for first place in Ricky's heart and broke up with him. Upset but knowing he had to find Drake before he relapsed, Ricardo let him go. When he and his brother arrived at the truck stop bathroom, they found their friend unresponsive and receiving CPR and powerful shocks from an AED attempting to jump-start his heart. After the fourth attempt, Drake started breathing.**

 **Drake was admitted to the hospital and put in ICU. Ricardo remained positive and comforted his younger brother during their first visitation with Drake. The patient began seizing and the Santos brothers were told to go back to the waiting room. They were later given news that Drake was stable, but Ricardo's optimism faded. Julio knew the man was carrying the stress of trying to be strong for the both of them and, feeling guilty, he contacted Dee and filled him in on what had happened. Dee came to the hospital to offer his support and he comforted his ex while he cried. Drake was comatose for one day before waking up and was, to his friends' confusion, aggressive and angry towards the oldest boy. They learned about the texts Drake had been receiving and concluded that Dahlia was behind the fake account. They called Samantha for help so that they could get proof and she told them about Dahlia raping Drake and Drake sticking up for her anyway. When showed the proof, Drake felt awful and apologized for treating Ricky so poorly. Later, Drake caught Julio sneakily drinking from a flask and, when he realized he'd been caught, he exploded. Julio drunkenly ranted about how Drake had ruined his life. He accused his long-time best friend of being the reason he had become an alcoholic and stealing his brother away. He ranted about a pattern he had noticed where Drake would do something unforgivable (like try to seduce his best friend's boyfriend) and then he would run off and almost get himself killed, forcing everyone to forget about what he had done and sympathize for him. He told him how unfair it was that no one was allowed to get mad at Drake because of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his father. Despite this blow-up, he continued to show up for visitation, although drunk. The Santos brothers stayed by his side day in and day out and Mrs. Hayfer visited everyday. He had a bumpy recovery, but recovered nonetheless.**

 **After a month of rest, he admitted himself into a mental hospital like both his doctor and Ricardo had recommended. There, he met a former classmate that he never got along with before and they quickly became friends. On the first night, being roommates with an older man who resembled his gym coach triggered his PTSD and sent him into a panic that led to him punching a male nurse. He was put in a straitjacket and locked away in solitary confinement. When asked by Ricardo why he always freaked out at the mention of treatment centers (like mental hospitals and rehabs), Drake opened up and admitted to being the subject of abuse when he was here about eight years before. He explained that his bad attitude and behavior often got him sent to isolation, which used to be located in the basement. He told him about an orderly named Mr. Kenneth who used to "make home movies." He would force thirteen-year-old Drake and a girl who was two years older than him named Genny Lynn to have sex while he recorded it on his camera. Drake admitted to this being how he had lost his virginity and he confessed that now-deceased girlfriend and love of his life Meelah Dekody was not his first despite what he always told people. Drake decided to leave the hospital, but was given the news that it was unlikely that he would be allowed to go. He was let out of solitary and prescribed an antidepressant called Effexor. After a rough first week, he began participating in therapy and opening up about his troubled life, which inspired the closed-off Theo to do the same and reveal that his aunt had molested him for years beginning at the age of five.** **After his release, Drake remained in contact with Theo and a forty-two year old woman named Hero, who he started sleeping with.**

 **While at Hero's house, Dahlia showed up and asked why she hadn't heard from Drake, then she got offended and started putting him down when he told her that he was done with her. Despite his words, he later expressed to the Santos brothers that he missed her and wanted to get back together with her. While on a walk with Julio that evening, Drake cautiously attempted to bring up Julio's worsening alcoholism, to which Julio spewed out insults and stormed off. After the stressful day, Drake relapsed on Triple C's (also referred to as Charlie or CCC's).**

 **He got a part in a musical called _Rent_ , which Dee had persuaded him to audition for back before his and Ricardo's break-up. Dee was also cast, which made things awkward. Because of his drug use, his voice became monotonous and he gained the attention of one of the play directors named Allie, who frequently insulted him with vulgar name-calling and vicious taunting. After rehearsals one day, Drake had no other option but to ride home with Dee. Feeling guilty about ruining the only thing Ricardo had ever wanted, Drake explained to Dee why Ricky was always so secretive about him. He told him about his drug addiction and the physical and sexual abuse he'd endured at his dad's and he promised that he would be okay with Ricardo keeping him in the loop if he gave his friend another chance.**

 **Drake soon turned twenty-two and was given a party, which he was surprised with while tripping on his pills. Despite trying to play it cool, Ricardo figured it out and confronted him about the the next morning. Drake admitted to relapsing, but just that one day. When asked why, his old drug addict behavior took over and he subtly manipulated Ricardo into believing it was his fault. He told him he was upset because he spoke to Dee and told him everything. He still continued to use after this. Over the weekend, he went to Mrs. Hayfer's house, where he mowed her lawn for money and ate dinner. She told him how proud she was of him and gave him encouragement. Feeling guilty, he admitted to his week-long relapse. When Ricardo picked him up after work, Drake confessed the full truth to him as well. To earn the man's trust back, he allowed Ricardo to conduct random room and bag searches and to track his location and his purchases. Because of what Julio had told him back at the hospital about everyone feeling like the weren't allowed to get mad at him, he encouraged Ricky to express his true feelings and he listened to him vent. Drake swore to him that he would never use Triple C's again.**

 **Because of the guilt he felt after Julio's blow-up at the hospital, Drake tried to be more independent and learn how to take charge of his addiction on his own. This gave Ricardo more time to focus on his own life, and just in time for Dee to suggest giving their relationship another go. Between work and his boyfriend, Ricky got busy and became less attentive to what was going on in his home. Julio's alcoholism came to a climax. One day, he drunkenly tripped and fell down the stairs. When Drake tried to help him up, he released his anger on him by slinging him against the wall and threatening to kill him. Despite his fear, Drake stayed by his side that night to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit. The next day, Drake caught his intoxicated friend going for his car keys. He quickly snatched them up and a fight broke out, leaving Drake battered and bruised. Drake managed to get rid of the keys once and for all by dropping them down the drain in the kitchen sink. Outrage, Julio delivered a punch so hard that it knocked the boy out. When Drake came to, he discovered that Julio had used his spare keys and took the car anyway. He received a called from Julio, who was in jail after having gotten arrested for drunk driving. They discussed how they would get him out and this is when Drake learned that his troubled friend had flunk out of school a while back. Julio wanted to keep this a secret between the two of them and Drake thought that, because of his experiences, he could help, so he agreed to keep this from Ricardo. Because of this, he wasn't able to get his money from him because then he would be asked what it was for. With no other option, he borrowed from Gemini and Rhinestone and Julio was bonded out. His drinking and his hatred for Drake continued. Two days later, Ricardo noticed his busted knuckles while he made a sandwich next to him and realized that he had been the one who had beaten Drake up. An argument ensued and, pissed that he was caught, Julio decided to air out all of Drake's dirty laundry as well. Enraged by all the lies he had been fed, Ricardo stormed upstairs. Julio kicked Drake out and told him that he was unwelcome and needed to find somewhere else to live.**

 **Instead of getting high, Drake went to Mrs. Hayfer's house and vented to her about what had happened. After getting a pep talk, he returned to the Santos house to find all his belongings thrown across the yard. Still, he went inside to discuss with Julio whether he really wanted him to go or not. He found Julio at the bottom of the staircase, having tripped over a guitar strap on his way to throw Drake's instrument outside with his other things. He was choking on his vomit, so Drake turned him over and scooped it out, then called an ambulance. Afterwards, he called Ricardo. At the hospital, he cleared the air and told him everything.**

 **While at Subway with the _Rent_ cast the next day, a girl who liked to go by Sal struck up a conversation with him. Drake was already nervous and on edge after having just received new that Julio would be released from the hospital and Ricardo wanted to have a family meeting, so when Sal flirtatiously teased him and touched his back uninvited, it sent him into a panic attack. Dee took Drake and met with Ricardo, who calmed him down. However, when he got back to the theatre, things were uncomfortably awkward between him and Sal.**

 **When Drake got home, Julio was there, now over his alcohol poisoning. Their dinner started out quietly, but after Drake broke the ice, Julio broke down and apologized for his behavior, then admitted to feeling scared. Drake promised to help him through it and he stayed by his side that night and comforted him through his painful withdrawals.**

* * *

 _(1 week later)_

Drake's eyes shot open and his body physically jerked as he awoke. He gasped, then looked around frantically to find himself in his room at the Santos house. He sighed with relief, then continued panting for breath. "Fuck," he whispered to himself with shaky fingers. He pushed himself into a sitting position and hunched over, then he ran his fingers through his hair.

He was drenched with sweat, but it wasn't just due to the nightmare. Over the last week, Drake had bunked with Julio to help him through his hellish withdrawal symptoms, one of those being excessive sweating. They kept the house and Julio's room especially cool as an attempt to make things a little easier and therefore, both Drake and Ricardo were sick with colds.

The young man reached over to his nightstand and took some of the cold medicine. It was two in the morning, so it was close enough to time for him to take more. His head was burning up and it ached and his face felt stuffy and swollen. He put some nose spray in his nose, squirted some sore throat spray in his mouth, then grabbed a cough drop. When he pushed himself out of bed, he felt heavy, but also as if he was floating like a balloon filled with helium. He stumbled over to the closet and grabbed a jacket that he could wear. His own wouldn't fit over the layers upon layers of long-sleeved shirts that he was wearing, but he had one of Ricardo's old jackets in his closet after borrowing it a long time ago, so he put that on and zipped it up to his neck, then stuck his hands in the pockets. Now would be a good time for HotHands.

Despite how fatigued he was, he knew that he wouldn't be going back to sleep now. He was too embarrassed to admit it out loud, but Drake was afraid of being alone in the dark after that nightmare. At least, he didn't want to be alone in the dark in this room. Whenever he had sleep paralysis, he always hallucinated about where he had fallen asleep, which was usually here, so he's seen his father in this room more times than he could stand. He'd gotten used to the comfort of sleeping next to someone else knowing that he would be woken up if he had a nightmare. This was his first night back in his room and maybe going to sleep nervous about that is what had triggered the bad dream in the first place.

The young man carefully opened his door and made his way down the hall. He was going to pee and then go outside to smoke, but as he came up on the bathroom door, he heard what sounded like whimpering. He continued walking until he got to Julio's room. He listened for a moment, then pushed the door open. His friend was having a nightmare, too. He crossed the room and shook his shoulder.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Julio woke suddenly and similarly to how Drake had. He sat up when he saw his friend. "Jesus, I was having a nightmare." He was mumbling due to his tiredness.

"Same."

"Was I yelling?"

"No, I was on my way to the bathroom."

"I dreamed I was drinking and driving and I crashed into something and you and Ricky died and I ran so I wouldn't go to prison, but then this huge, hideous monster kept chasing me."

"Shit." Drake figured his friend's openness meant that he wanted to talk, so he put a moratorium on his late night bathroom break and sat down next to his legs. "You alright?"

"I don't know." Julio rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What was your nightmare about?"

The young man averted his eyes with this question. "My dad." This was only partly true. His father had played a part in his dream, but Julio had been the star. Apparently, the memory of having his best friend sling him against the wall and threaten his life wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

"I don't even think I can go back to sleep. You?"

"Nah."

"Why are we so fucked up?"

"You wanna smoke a cigarette?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna pee first. I'll meet you downstairs."

Drake left the room and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he made it downstairs, Julio was slipping on some house shoes. They headed outside and sat down in the two rocking chairs. While Drake pulled out two cigarettes, Julio pulled the ashtray on the table between them closer to the middle so that he could reach better.

"Should you be smoking?" Julio took his cigarette and put one end in his mouth, then leaned closer to let his friend light it. He pulled away and a cloud of smoke left his lips. "I mean, with your sore throat and all."

"Definitely not." Drake lit his own, then exhaled slowly. The smoke irritated his throat, so he started coughing until he had to stand and lean over the banisters to spit a glob of mucus out. When it finally came up, he leaned his elbows on the railing and groaned, then sniffled.

"You should really stop smoking, bro."

"I know."

"No, I mean, for real." He knew that his friend thought he just meant temporarily while he was sick, but he meant permanently.

This time, Drake sighed. "I know."

"What were you, sixteen when you started?"

The young man snorted what was left of the mucus that hadn't come up, then he spat that out. "Fourteen."

"Shit, dude," Julio said. "That's eight years. I thought you started with Meelah."

"No, I was just embarrassed about it and kept it a secret until I got with Meelah, then I thought it was cool."

"How long did she smoke before she quit?"

"I think she said she'd just started a few months before we got together, so...a year? Give or take. She quit while we were broken up." He took another drag. "My mom used to smoke."

"I remember."

"For, like, thirty years."

"Damn." Julio blinked with surprise. "She's not that old, though."

"She told me she started when she was nine."

"Fuck, bruh."

"She said she was a wild kid. Always rebelling. Always in trouble for doing shit she wasn't supposed to. Kinda hard to picture her like that."

"So _that_ 's where you get it."

This brought a small smile up on Drake's face to think that maybe he was more like his mother rather than like his father. He would've been proud to be like her, except her definition of wild was smoking in the school bathroom, street-racing with her boyfriend, staying out past curfew and breaking into abandoned houses to party with her friends. Drake had been like that in his early teen years, he supposed, but now his definition of wild had change. Or maybe he wasn't a wild child at all. Maybe there was another word for it. Maybe just bad or criminal or societally useless. Maybe he was an abomination. Is that what you would call a teenage addict, thief, liar, back-stabber, bum, beggar, prostitute? Or would you just call that a wild kid?

"Did you know Mrs. Hayfer was a smoker?" Julio asked.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we smoked together once when you were in the hospital. She said she'd quit a long time ago and just buys a pack once in a blue moon during stressful situations."

"Shit, I didn't know. I feel bad. I've smoked around her at her house when I'm cutting grass."

Julio let go of his breath, then flicked some of his ashes into the tray. Finally, Drake straightened, but instead of taking his seat again, he hopped up onto the banister and sat there so that he was facing his friend.

"Speaking of cutting grass, don't you have to do that this weekend?"

"Yeah. I don't even wanna think about it."

"I could take over for you."

"You don't have to do that."

"You're sick. You don't need to be out there all day. You need to be in bed resting."

He knew that Drake was sick because of him. He got sick that first night of withdrawals a week ago and he's been sick ever since because he continued to sleep in his freezing cold room so that he didn't have to go through everything alone.

"I'll be better by the time Saturday comes around," Drake said.

"You plan on becoming miraculously healed in two days even though you refuse to give yourself time to rest?" he asked. "Come on. Let me work off some of the money I owe you for bailing me out of jail."

"Your brother's helping me pay Rhinestone and Gem back."

"I know, but it's *my* mess. Ricardo's already gonna pay for the DUI classes I have to take and he doesn't want me to throw myself back into school or work just like he didn't want you to after you got clean. I just wanna help."

Drake knew that feeling. He's felt it a lot because he's fucked up a lot. "I'll talk to Mrs. Hayfer tomorrow and see if she can ask her neighbors if they'll be okay with you taking my place for the day. Or we can take our lawn mower with us and split the yards. That way, it'll only take half the time."

"Cool. We'll be the Santos Lawn Care Service."

"Just gonna cut me out completely now?"

"No. You're a Santos now."

Drake Santos. It had a nice ring to it. It made him feel like he belonged somewhere — to people other than Martin Parker. That's one thing that had always felt unfair to him. Audrey had been able to leave and her last name changed when she married Walter. She could shed her skin, erase any trace of the time she'd spent with Martin. Drake couldn't. He always carried that name with him and he always would. After marriage, it'll be given to his wife, then maybe some future kids. It would be spread down the bloodline like a hereditary disease. He was next to join the line of abusive, alcoholic men in his family. Alcohol never felt like a problem, though, and he couldn't imagine hitting an innocent child. Maybe things would change, though. Maybe by turning to drugs rather than alcohol, he was making things way worse for his kids in the future. Maybe he'd gotten off easy having a raging alcoholic father. Maybe his drug problem would make him a thousand times worse.

"That's the last time I give you a compliment. Goddamn!"

"What?"

"You're in your head."

"Sorry. You're right." He took a breath and looked down at his swinging feet. "Fuck. I don't know why I do that."

"Ruined a perfectly good fucking moment."

Drake shrugged, then met his eyes with his own squinted ones and a smile. "A little cheesy, though. Right?"

"You know what? I take it back then. Brotherhood revoked."

"No, no, I'm kidding. I like it. Ten out of ten totally not cheesy."

"That's what I thought," he said. "You going back to sleep after this?"

"No, you?" When Julio shook his head, he asked, "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Depends. Who's picking the movie?"

"Um...me?" Drake wore an innocent expression.

"Then no."

"Come on."

"Drake, your movies are so fucking weird."

"All you watch is trashy action and vulgar comedies. They're all the same. Throw a couple explosions in the action ones. Have a couple people say _vagina_ in the comedies. They're predictable."

"But they're not weird."

"I won't pick a weird one."

"Do you even own one that isn't weird?"

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly. However, he was shaking his head no.

Julio sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine!"

* * *

"Drake?!"

The boy's eyes shot open and he saw Ricardo coming towards the living room, where he lay on the couch.

"What the fuck? I didn't see you in your room. I thought you were already up. I woke up late."

"Time is it?" He stretched his legs out and rubbed his eyes.

"It's 6:45."

"Shit!" Drake hopped off the couch and dashed upstairs. He had to be at rehearsals in fifteen minutes. He'd already called out two days earlier in the week to stay with Julio during his withdrawals and Allie hadn't been too happy. If he was late, she would chew his head off.

He brushed his teeth first because that's what was most important to him. He didn't care if he showed up naked as long as his teeth were brushed. Otherwise, he would feel it all day and constantly run his tongue over his teeth and wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything. While he did this, he went into his room and grabbed a t-shirt, jeans and socks. He went back into the bathroom to rinse and spit, cleaned his toothbrush, then ran downstairs, only stopping to pick up his shoes.

"I'm ready," he called to Ricardo, who had just finished pouring himself some coffee in a travel mug. He put the lid on it and hurried out the door right after Drake.

When the car was cranked, Drake checked the clock. 6:48. "Fuck." He removed his many shirts as they backed out of the driveway, then put on the clean one. "Damn, I forgot deodorant."

"Here." Ricky opened the middle compartment and pulled out a stick of Old Spice.

"You keep deodorant in your car?"

"That's not weird."

Drake took the stick. "I hate sharing deodorant."

"Shut the fuck up and just put it on."

The young man popped off the cap and rubbed some under both armpits.

"You do realize my brother uses your deodorant all the time, right?"

"What?!"

"You share the same bathroom. Have you ever once seen another tube of deodorant other than the one you buy?"

"I thought he kept his in his room so I wouldn't use his."

"Nah, he doesn't give a shit about that."

"That's so fucking gross. Geez, I would've bought him fucking deodorant if I knew that."

"Pretty sure he'd still use yours just to piss you off."

Drake groaned, then put the Old Spice back in the middle compartment. He then removed his pajama pants and picked up his jeans, then lifted his ass off the seat so that he could slide them on and secure them. "Damn it. I don't have a belt."

"I think I have one of mine in the trunk." He glanced at his friend's waist. "It might fit you. I don't know. You might have to poke an extra hole in it. It was cheap anyway."

After Drake got on his socks and his shoes, he relaxed in his seat with a huff.

"You and Julio slept in the living room?"

"Yeah, we both woke up from nightmares at, like, the same time, so we went downstairs and watched a couple movies."

"What time did you go back to sleep?"

"I don't remember. Sometime during the second one because it was Julio's pick and it sucked. Fuck, today's gonna suck!"

"Did you remember your medicine?"

Drake hesitated and spoke in a quiet voice. "No, I stopped taking it."

"What?! Why?!"

"I just — it's not helping."

"And taking nothing is?"

"I still go about my day depressed as shit and I cry just as much as I did before I started taking it. Look, the counselor's appointment the mental hospital made me schedule is coming up, so I'll have that."

Ricardo glanced at the clock. It was 6:57 and they were nearing the theatre. "I wish we had more time to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. I just don't wanna take the meds. I've put enough shit in my body for one lifetime."

"That's a bullshit excuse and you know it."

Drake could feel an argument coming on and he wasn't in the mood. "Ricky, they're not working."

"How do you know?"

"Because I do."

"How?"

"Because I still wake up and the first thought I have is about killing myself!"

The man went silent and Drake immediately felt guilty. He was working on living the kind of life that wouldn't make those around him worry, but how was that supposed to happen if he said shit like this?

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Shit."

"No, it's okay. I'm glad you did. I guess we haven't had much of a chance to discuss if anything's changing." He parked the car in an empty space. "You've been staying strong for my brother and it looked like things were actually getting better for you."

"Yeah. I gotta run."

"Wait a minute. I just don't want you to suppress your feelings for anyone's sake."

The young man sighed as he pulled his hand away from the handle. "I'm just trying not to make sober life look like such a drag," Drake admitted. "I have to go."

Ricardo said, "Just... You don't have to hide it from _me_ , you know? I would like an update."

"I promised I wouldn't try to kill myself again and I meant it. You don't have to worry."

"I'll always worry. I hate seeing you hurting. Now is not a good time for you to start withdrawing into yourself. I know you're trying to be more self-dependent and that's great. I support that. But you can still be independent and talk about what's going on with you at the same time."

"Look, we'll talk about this after, okay? I have to go." Drake got out of the car and grabbed the belt after the man popped the trunk for him, then he hurried inside.

* * *

Dee had a river of sweat trailing down the spine of his shirt as he plopped down on the bleachers next to Drake, who was leaning back and looked relaxed. The man grabbed his sweat towel and patted his face, then picked up his water bottle. "You look like you're having fun," he said sarcastically.

"No, I am actually. I've been in love with this musical for years. It's pretty cool to have the chance to be apart of it. Definitely keeps me busy a few days out of the week. Helps me stay clean."

Dee nodded, then drank more water. He hardly gave himself enough time to swallow it before asking, "So what'd you think?"

"Of what?" Then, "Oh, of the scene? Yeah. I mean...you were aiight," he joked as he rolled his eyes, then he received a playful shove. "It's really good. Other than that minor misstep this last time."

"Yeah, I'm so exhausted. Been at this scene all morning and we just keep jumping and running around."

"She'll probably dismiss us for lunch in a few," Drake said. "You going with anyone?"

The only people there were the main actors and their understudies, so it was doubtful that there'd be a huge gathering this time.

"No."

"Wanna get smoothies?"

"That sounds good. I need to cool off."

"Same. I've been working up a sweat over here. All this sitting and not participating is exhausting as hell."

"Yeah, I bet." He then noticed Drake and Sal share an awkward look as she passed before the boy averted his eyes. Dee watched her go towards her purse and pick up her bottle, then check her phone. "The hell was that?"

"We've just kinda been ignoring each other since I freaked out on her last week. I thought if I just brushed it off, she'd forget about it, but now there's just so much weirdness and tension." He could tell that Dee wanted to ask but was too polite, so he volunteered the information. "She touched me. At lunch. Just a friendly pat of the shoulder, but... I went from zero to a hundred so fast I hardly remember it. I started having all of these..." Drake wouldn't look at him when he spoke because it still felt strange being open to a guy he'd just met only months ago, but Dee was a nice guy and he was trustworthy. "...flashbacks."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, I know. I want to," Drake said and he finally met his eyes to show that he was being genuine. "I want to."

Dee stayed quiet and let him speak without any prompts so that the boy had complete control of the conversation and how far he wanted it to go.

"I just don't like being touched when I'm not expecting it and the conversation we were having before that was so bad that I was already having anxiety. Plus, Ricky wanted me to talk to Julio after he got out of the hospital and I was expecting it to go poorly and I wasn't in the right head-space to be able to handle my best friend hating me and wanting me out of the house. I don't know. I guess everything was just happening so fast and all it took was for that one surprise pat on the shoulder for me to fly off the handle. She thinks I'm fucking crazy." After a moment, he spoke quieter. "I _am_ fucking crazy."

"Well...probably, but..."

"Shut up." But he was smiling, which made Dee smile, too.

"You should go talk to her."

"Ha. Yeah, right."

"For real. I think she likes you."

Drake said nothing, so the man gave him an encouraging shove.

"Come on," he urged. "Just...invite her to get smoothies with us," he suggested. He gave him another push when he didn't move. "Come on!"

"Alright! Fine! Fuck!"

Drake stood and Dee gathered his things and headed out the door and to his car. The young man made his way towards Sal and when he approached her, he still hadn't made up his mind about what he wanted to say.

"Hey." _Okay. Bland start, but a start nonetheless._

She turned around and looked at him warily when she saw that it was him. "Hey."

 _Maybe an apology? That doesn't sound right. An explanation definitely isn't happening._ "Um...I'm... Dee and I — we're gonna get smoothies. Do you wanna come?"

She paused with surprise and confusion and the anticipation made Drake feel nervous and awkward. Maybe he shouldn't have taken Dee's advice, but it worked.

"Sure," she said.

"Cool. Okay. Um, are you ready now or...?"

"Yeah. I'm ready."

The two walked together out of the building and Dee smiled with satisfaction when he saw them.

* * *

"So... Wait, so _you_ 're dating his best friend? Am I... Is that right?"

"Yeah," Dee said.

"I knew you two knew each other. You're closer than everyone else is here," Sal said. "I kinda thought you were dating."

"You really think Drake ever has a chance to be with someone like me?"

"Okay. Damn!" Drake was sitting next to Dee, who had chosen the seat next to him after ordering his smoothie. He was glad because it meant no unwanted — although innocent and friendly — touches. "But true."

This made Sal giggle. "Really? Interesting. You know, Drake was _the_ guy to be with back in high school. Mr. Popular. Everyone wanted to be with him." She looked at him when she said this and Drake could tell that she was flirting with him. She had been the entire time.

"Well, you know what they say. People change," Dee joked.

"No," Sal said, looking at her former classmate again. "I don't think they do." Again with the fuck-me eyes.

Dee glanced at his phone. "Alright, it's about time to be heading back."

"I had a lot of fun. Thanks for inviting me, you guys." But her smile was only directed at Drake. She stood. "I'm gonna run to the little girls' room before we go."

Dee nodded as he sucked down more of his smoothie. He was almost done with it and he hated to throw away something that had cost almost seven dollars. He glanced at Drake, who was staring at her ass as she left before he realized he was caught. The man smirked.

"What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing."

"What?"

"I didn't say anything." But he was grinning as he sipped some more of his beverage.

"Ugh, fuck off."

They were quiet for about a minute. Drake was just sitting there with a bouncing leg and fidgeting fingers and Dee was on his phone scrolling through Instagram, but finally, the younger boy stood.

"I have to pee before we go, too."

"Mm-hmm," Dee said knowingly.

Drake ignored it and crossed the small smoothie shop. He turned the corner and went down the hallway that led to a bathroom, kitchen and closet. There was only one gender neutral bathroom, so it wouldn't take any guessing to figure out which one Sal was in. He pushed on the door cautiously to be sure that it was unlocked. If not, maybe he'd misread her signs. However, the door opened.

"Jesus, there you are. I was beginning to think you were too chicken to show."

He didn't have time to speak before she shoved him against the door and pressed her lips against his. She wasted no time. She immediately began unbuckling his belt and getting him going with her hand. He didn't take long due to all the seductive lip-biting and alluring, lustful gazes she had been giving him over break. Drake slipped his hand into her pants and massaged her clitoris, but she was already wet and ready.

Suddenly, Sal pulled her mouth away and the eager boy met her eyes. She pulled a small, square wrapper out of her back pocket and held it against his chest. "No offense or anything, but I don't really know you like that."

She locked the door and removed her pants and panties while Drake put on the condom. He was glad she preferred it this way because he had one in his wallet that he'd planned on using anyway. After Mindy's unexpected pregnancy, he'd learned his lesson. He didn't have sex without a condom, except for with Dahlia because he knew her and she was on the pill.

The second the condom was on, he lifted her up and carried her over to the sink. Their lips smashed together and he started thrusting into her. He impatiently pulled open her button-up blouse and cupped her breasts in his hands and she pulled her lips away to let out a sigh. Drake felt her hands all over him, only this time, he didn't get any unwanted flashbacks.

"How do you like it?"

"Fast."

"Right there?" He knew that all women were different and he wasn't ashamed to ask questions. Maybe this is something he'd gotten used to on the streets. He'd learned to keep the line of communication open in order to make sure his customers always got what they paid for.

"A little to the left. Uh! Right there! Oh, god..."

He watched her close her eyes and tilt her head back, her body bouncing with his rapid thrusts.

"Uh... Talk dirty to me."

He did. He called her a slut and a bitch amongst other things and she talked about craving his dick and being impressed with the size of it. His climax started a bit after hers and he couldn't stop himself from letting go of a moan.

"Fuck..." he said on an exhale, then Sal picked up where he left off.

"Oh!... Uh!..." Despite her exclamations, she doubted anyone could hear outside the door. She made sure to be quieter than her normal self.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Not yet." It wasn't long before she finished, then she said, "Okay, go ahead."

She hardly managed to finish her sentence before he released himself. Another moan left him. He rested a sweaty palm on the mirror behind her to hold up his weight as he panted for breath. He opened his eyes and looked at her to make sure she looked satisfied. When he saw her grinning, he smiled back and let go of an out-of-breath chuckle. Sal closed the gap between them again and gave him a couple more kisses.

"You're cute." Her eyes sparkled as she squinted at him with amusement. "That was the most chivalrous quickie I've ever had."

He was still trying to catch his breath as he pulled away from her. "Was it okay?"

"Oh, it was more than okay. First time in months the guy was able to get me off."

"Really?" He removed the condom and tossed it into the mini trash can, then grabbed some toilet paper.

"I guess I'm not the easiest woman to please." She hopped off the counter and started cleaning herself off, too. "It was good for you?"

"Yeah, it was great." Drake fixed his jeans and washed his hands, then picked up Sal's clothes off the floor. "I'll go out first."

She nodded as she took the clothes. The young man unlocked the door. He only opened it a crack before slipping out and closing it behind him. He went down the hallway and back to the table. When he sat down, Dee was smirking at him.

"Everything came out fine?"

"Yep."

Dee just shook his head at the fact that Drake was still in denial. He reached up and combed his fingers through his friend's hair. "Dude, your hair is all over the fucking place."

Drake pushed his hand away so that he could fix it himself, but he still turned to him for confirmation.

"I hope you don't get her sick, dude."

"Shit! I forgot."

"Oh my god, you're an asshole." Dee chuckled. "You better tell her so she can get ahead of it and try to prevent it as much as possible. Forgot you were sick. Mother fucker..."

* * *

"Y'all are just in time," Ricardo called over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He pulled a pan out of the oven. "Dinner's ready."

Dee immediately made his way towards him while Drake stopped to take off his shoes. He leaned in and kissed his boyfriend's cheek, then got a real kiss in return.

"How'd rehearsals go?"

"It was exhausting today. We did a lot of the choreography."

"Oh, yeah?" He looked at Drake to gauge his reaction to the experience.

"Drake didn't have to do shit. He just sat on the bleachers and watched."

"But you were on the schedule, weren't you?"

Drake approached the two now to peek over and see what was for dinner: fish and vegetables. Ricardo always tried to cook healthy when he knew that Dee was coming for dinner. Dee was such a health-nut. Drake didn't mind. It was a nice break from the Mexican food they'd had for the past three nights in a row.

"I was just supposed to watch the guy playing Roger since I'm the understudy."

At this moment, Julio came down the stairs. "Did I hear you say dinner's done? I'm starving."

"Yeah."

"Hey, Julio," Dee said. "How've you been?"

"I'm feeling a lot better. Most days anyway."

The four boys made their plates and took them to be living room, but no one turned on the tv. Instead, they talked about their day or something they'd heard or whatever was on their minds.

"And she's literally staring him down the entire time," Dee was saying in the middle of dinner. "Like I don't even fucking exist, then she disappears to the bathroom. And _this_ mother fucker right here!"

Ricardo and Julio were both grinning with amusement. Even Drake thought that Dee's retelling of what happened was funny.

"He's gonna sit there and tell me, _'Oh, I gotta go to the bathroom before we leave, too.'_ Biiitch!"

The room filled with laughter.

"Acting like there's more than one bathroom in that place. I was born, but it wasn't yesterday, honey."

Drake noticed that Ricardo's eyes sparkled and he hung on to every word his boyfriend spoke. He was so in love and Drake was glad that everything had worked out between the two of them — between all of them really. Ricky and Dee were back together, Drake and Julio were sober and everything felt alright for the first time in a long time.

"And then this mother fucker comes back like, _'Oh, Dee, I forgot I'm sick.'_ "

More laughter.

"I do not sound like that," Drake said.

"Trust me. You do."

* * *

The next day, Julio went into his brother's room around two o'clock in the afternoon. The quiet noise caught the man's attention, so he turned over to see who it was.

"Hey, what's up?" His nose was stuffy.

"Nothing. You sleeping?"

"No, just relaxing."

Julio sat down on the foot of the bed and faced his brother, then brought his knees up to his chest.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just bored. Drake's sleeping."

"I can watch a movie with you or something."

"Or maybe watch those old game-shows we watched with Abuelita when we were kids?"

Ricardo felt guilty that he couldn't actually recall the last time he and his little brother had hung out by themselves. He'd always been so protective of Drake and Julio had always seemed okay with that. Julio was the kid he thought he never had to worry about. Somehow he'd gotten so swept up with Drake's life that he'd neglected his brother's feelings, but now they had a chance to spend time together. Just the two of them. Little bro and big bro.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Unless you're too tired. We can do it another time."

"No, I'm not tired. I mean, my body's tired, but I've been laying here awake all morning."

Julio noticed that Ricky hadn't yet gotten out of bed for lunch, so he asked, "You hungry?"

"I'll probably get up and make something in a minute."

"I can make you some soup," his brother offered. Without waiting for an answer, he asked, "You want tomato or chicken noodle?"

"Tomato."

While Ricardo searched for the game-show channel that they hadn't watched in probably fifteen years, Julio went downstairs and got the can of soup out of the pantry. He poured it into a bowl and microwaved it, then began making some fried ham, cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches — one for Ricky and two for himself. While those sizzled in the pan, the microwaved beeped, so he pulled out the hot bowl and poured in some shredded cheese. The soup was warm enough to melt it, making it thick. Their mother had always made this for him when he was sick. It was his favorite sick food.

Julio got a tray to carry everything. He put the soup, the sandwiches, two cups of juice and some saltines on the platter, along with silverware and napkins, then he went upstairs. Ricardo was sitting up now and he was placing some pillows against the wall to rest his back on. He already had some set up for Julio, so the boy sat down, put his food and drink on the nightstand, then passed the tray over so that Ricky could place it on his lap.

"Oh, you made those fried ham and cheese sandwiches. I haven't had one in forever." He picked his up and dipped it in the soup, then took a bite. "Mmm."

"I figured I'd make one while you're sick like Mamá did."

"Thank you." Ricardo reached for the remote and turned the volume up on the tv a little, then he and his brother sat and watched the old game-shows that still aired repeats.

* * *

The ding of Drake's phone woke him. He didn't want to move, but it occurred to him that he'd asked Mrs. Hayfer to talk to her neighbors about Julio cutting their grass and he didn't want to leave her message without a response. He reached for his phone. Mrs. Hayfer _had_ texted him, but that was an hour and a half ago. Apparently, he'd slept for longer than he thought. She wasn't who was messaging him now.

The name made his heart flutter with nerves and excitement. He didn't even think twice before he opened the message. _Her_ message.

 **Dahlia Martin: hey Drake. Haven't heard from ya n a while. How ru?**

The young man started to type that he was okay, but then he paused. _Is this really a good idea?_ He wanted her to know that even without her, he was alive and well and sober, but mostly, he just wanted to talk to her. However, he had to stop being so impulsive about things. This always made trouble for him.

He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to talk to her so badly, but he couldn't do it behind the Santos brothers' backs. It was almost like he needed permission or he needed to convince them that a simple _"I'm okay"_ is harmless. Drake stood and went into Ricardo's room, but the man was asleep. Next to him was his brother, who was already cautiously trying to get out of bed without waking the sleeper. Drake waited for him to join him in the hallway and Julio closed the door behind him.

"How's he feeling?" the boy asked.

"Getting better, but still kinda stuffed up and exhausted."

"Same."

"What's up?" Julio asked.

"You wanna come outside while I smoke a cigarette?"

"Sure."

Julio followed him downstairs and this time they sat in different spots than they had the other morning. He watched his friend light up, then shook his head when he was offered the pack. "Everything okay?"

Drake took in a breath and his lungs filled up with smoke. "Clem texted me."

"When?" His disdain for the girl was already clear in his voice.

"Just a few minutes ago."

"Did you say anything back?"

"Not yet."

"Yet?" With that, he knew what his friend was thinking. "Drake, you can't be serious."

"No, I wasn't gonna — I just..." He sighed as he pulled his legs up to rest his heels on the chair. "I want her to know that I'm fine without her."

"That's what you're telling yourself, but I know you. You miss her and you miss the abuse and you wanna get back into all that bullshit with her." He wasn't wrong. "You need to drop that shit."

"She was my fiancée, bro. I was gonna marry her. I can't just drop that shit like you're saying."

"You can. It's simple. Just don't respond. Block her."

"I...I don't want to."

Julio clenched his teeth. "Drake..." He sighed, then tried to calm himself. "I'm not trying to be...insensitive. I know you had hard feelings for her. I know you wanted to be with her forever. I do, okay? But look at me."

Hesitantly, Drake did and he wore that puppy dog expression despite not realizing he was doing it.

"If she really cared about you, do you think she would've done all of the shit that she did to you?"

"She was just doing what she thought was best."

"Best?! Bro, she turned you against me and my brother, your two _best_ friends."

"She was just jealous."

"She wasn't jealous. She wanted to control you. She wanted you all to herself, like a mindless slave," Julio said. "I mean, Christ, Drake, she pretended to be Ricardo and sent you mean texts to make you feel bad."

"I admit she went a little overboard."

Julio was flabbergasted. "You tried to kill yourself because of her. She wanted you to kill yourself. Do you really think she cared about you?"

"She was just upset about the break-up."

"And you broke up because she was cheating on you."

"I cheated on her first. I slept with way more guys in two months than she did that whole year."

He wasn't getting through to him. He couldn't let Drake go down that road again. He couldn't let Dahlia wiggle her way back into their lives. "I know she raped you. Multiple times."

Drake didn't have a rebuttal for this one — not an immediate one anyway. Julio watched the emotions wash over his face as if he were reliving those moments. He went from shock to anger to embarrassment to fear to shame and then back to anger.

"Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It was Samantha, wasn't it?" He shook his head as he turned his eyes towards the flock of birds that left a telephone wire and flew to a nearby tree. If only he could escape a situation with that much ease. He chuckled nervously as if Julio couldn't be any further off from the truth even though he was spot on. "She didn't...rape...me." All these years later and he still hated that fucking word!

"You said the safe word. She kept going."

"It was part of the role-play."

"It was not part of the role-play." He was unwavering and confident as if he had been in the room with the couple when it had happened and Drake knew he wouldn't be able to change his mind.

"Who else thinks this?"

"Just Ricardo."

He felt himself getting upset, but he didn't know why exactly. He wasn't upset at Julio for calling him out on his lie even though that's what he was acting like. He was pissed at someone else and his friend was getting the heat for it. He was angry at Dahlia for putting him in this situation where he couldn't explain things. He didn't want the sex. He had asked her to stop. He'd _begged_ her to stop. But she didn't. Why didn't she stop?

"So you guys have known this whole time and what?" Drake asked bitterly. "You just weren't gonna say anything?"

"We were waiting for you to talk about it when you were ready."

"There's nothing to talk about because she didn't do that!"

"Is it because she's a girl? Is that why you don't wanna admit it? Or because you love her? What is it that makes you still stick up for her after everything? The only other person you fought this hard to protect was your father. Do you not see the pattern? Do you not see the similarities with the verbal and physical and sexual abuse? Why are you trying to cover these up? Who are you protecting? Them?"

Drake's eyes watered over, so he refused to look at Julio.

"Or yourself?"

The young man hid his head between his knees. He left the question unanswered as he tried to grasp all of the new information that was been thrown at him. He couldn't believe Julio and Ricardo had known this whole time and that they'd refused to say anything about it. He wasn't sure why, but it made him feel like a fool — almost like he was the last one to know something embarrassing about himself. After it had happened — and kept happening — he'd repressed it. He'd refused to put a label on it and if there wasn't a label on it, then it was nothing and it meant nothing. If he didn't call it rape, then it wasn't rape...

...but that wasn't true. Julio was right. He'd said no. She'd done it anyway. Night after night after night until Samantha had come to his rescue. Samantha knew it. Brett knew it. Julio and Ricardo knew it.

Drake knew it. Dahlia had raped him.

Finally, the young man lifted his head. His voice was hard. "If I storm off in a rage to be alone so I don't blow up on you, are you gonna get upset and drink?" This was a whole new level of brutal honesty, but it was healthier than the alternatives.

Julio answered, "No."

He almost didn't get the word out all the way before Drake stood up with such anger that he almost knocked the chair over, which made Julio flinch. He grabbed his cigarettes and stomped down the steps without another word. He was out of sight in seconds. He felt himself being overwhelmed by an emotion that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he felt it all over every inch of his body and he just wanted to get away from it.

He started running. He ran and ran until his legs ached and he was out of breath, then he ran a little further. He felt the wind burning his eyes, but when they got blurry, he realized that he was crying and it was his tears that made them sting. Despite not having a specific destination in mind, he found himself at Theo's. Finally, he stopped running, but he still felt that weight on him and it was just as heavy as before. He stepped up onto the curb and leaned up against a tree to catch his breath, but it was kind of hard to do while he was sobbing. Moments later, he started puking.

* * *

The garage door opened and Drake looked over to see Theo coming outside.

"You feeling better?"

The young man had smoke coming out of his mouth as he said, "Yeah, thanks. Sorry to just show up like this."

"No, I get it. I'm glad you came here."

"I just knew you would be able to understand."

"I do."

"It's just different when it's someone you know you're stronger than. I could've fought my way out, but she used her words and used the emotions she knew I felt for her against me. She didn't need muscles to pin me down."

"It was the same way with my aunt. Believe me, I understand."

These were the words that Drake needed to hear. "Thanks. For listening. For everything."

"No problem. You know you're free to come over anytime, and if you wanna stay the night tonight, that's cool. You know my mom loves you and my sister thinks you're dope as fuck."

"Yeah, your sister's nice. I like her." Drake flicked his ashes in the tray that Mrs. Quest used.

"Not like _that_ , though?" It sounded like a question, but it was more of a demand.

"No, no, nothing like that that," the boy assured, then, "Why? You think I have a chance with her before she goes back to the base?"

"Bro! Not cool!"

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Your nerd ass could beat my ass in a heartbeat."

"Hundred percent. She taught me how to fight last time she was down."

"She's really good?"

"Oh, yeah. I didn't know she was any good at first and somehow I ended up challenging her to this wrestling match and had my ass handed to me."

"That's right."

The two boy turned towards the new voice. It was Cara. She had left out the front door of the house to take out the trash and she'd overheard them on the way to the bin.

"Even if you two teamed up against me, I can take both of you down in less than a minute."

Drake didn't doubt her. She had more muscles than he did, which wasn't saying much considering who he was, but she was very fit and muscular. He caught himself internally debating who would win in a fight against her and Julio. Julio could pack a punch — Drake knew this from experience — but he didn't have the training that she did.

"You had someone calling you, Theo." Cara tossed the phone quite a ways to her older brother.

"You're just gonna throw my phone like that?!" He caught it and looked at it while she hefted the garbage bag into the can.

"Also, Drake," she said as she wiped off her hands, "you'd never have a chance with me. I like my men with some muscle." She headed back inside, this time taking the garage route.

"No, I wasn't — it was just a joke. I wasn't—"

However, she disappeared inside."

"—serious... Shit!" His face was beet red.

"Well, I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore," Theo said with an amused smirk.

"Fuck you."

"Hey, it was Ricardo who called. He texted, too."

"What'd he say?" Drake furrowed his brows.

"Asking if you were here. I didn't reply yet because I don't know if you're trying to not be found, buuut I don't wanna lie to him because I'm scared he'll kill me."

"No, I wasn't trying to hide or anything. I'll call him back."

Theo passed him the phone, then went back inside to give him space. Drake called Ricky's number, then got an answer on the second ring.

"Hey, Theo. It's me, Drake's friend."

"It's me, Ricky."

"Oh, good. You alright?"

"Yeah. Sorry if you called. I guess I left my phone inside while I smoked."

"No, your phone's here. Julio said you left it on the porch when you left."

"Oh, shit, did I?" Now he understood why Ricardo was so quick to call around. It looked sketchy to leave behind something he knew that the man was tracking. It made it look like he was going somewhere he shouldn't and didn't want to have proof against him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry."

"So you've just been at Theo's."

"Yeah. He can tell you what time I got here and vouch for me if you need me to—"

"No, it's okay," Ricardo said. "I'm gonna take your word for it on this one."

Drake was earning his trust back and it felt really nice.

"So it's getting dark. Are you gonna stay there tonight or do you want me to come pick you up?"

"Do you feel like picking me up? Or I can walk back. It's not a big deal."

"No, I'll come."

"Julio's okay?" the boy asked.

"Yeah, Julio's fine. He's just playing video games."

"Okay. I'll see you when you get here."

"Alright, bye."

* * *

Julio turned off his video game just as he saw lights shine through the window. They were back home. He went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of soda, then turned towards the foyer as the door opened. Julio saw two cats run across the kitchen entryway and towards the front door, then he heard Drake's voice, followed by profuse meowing.

"You eat yet?" came Ricardo's voice. "Julio made food. He left you a plate in the microwave."

"I smell it. Is that fajitas?"

"Yeah."

Drake entered the kitchen and saw his friend standing by the counter. "Hey, bro. Sorry, I ran off like that."

"It's cool."

The young man took his food out of the microwave. It was still somewhat warm. He poured himself some juice, then sat down in one of the bar-stools. "What have you been up to?" He took his first bite of the steak fajitas.

"Just playing _Rocket League_. You?"

"You want any ice cream?" Ricardo asked his brother as he pulled the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream out of the freezer.

"I'll take a little bit."

"I went for a run and then I ended up at Theo's," Drake said.

"Trying to get back into exercising?"

"Eh, I don't know." The young man shrugged. "Just needed to clear my head."

"Did you talk to Dahlia?"

This time, Ricardo pulled his attention away from the dessert that he was scooping and looked at their roommate, too.

"No. I decided not to. Like you said, I need to let that shit go."

Julio could tell that he was genuine, but there was still hurt in his eyes. He went around the island and gave his friend a one-armed hug from behind. Drake hugged back the only way he could in this position, which was by gripping his forearm that was underneath his neck. He could feel tears coming up again and he tried to blink them away before the young man could see them, but Ricardo saw them.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He sniffled. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Julio sat down on the stool next to him and observed him. "You don't want me to touch you?" He was about to apologize for the spontaneous hug, but Drake stopped him.

"No, it's not that."

Drake had no idea what was happening or where it was coming from, but suddenly a couple body-shaking sobs left him. He thought that talking through things with Theo had solved the issue. It had definitely helped. Still, he felt the need to come clean to the Santos brothers, the two boys who had been with him every step of the way during his recovery — who knew everything about him. Even though they knew, he still felt like he was living a lie because he hadn't been the one to tell them. Shit, he hadn't even really accepted it until a few hours ago.

"What's wrong?" Ricardo had forgotten about the ice cream and was standing on the other side of Drake, rubbing his bicep.

"I just..." Drake hung his head and wiped his eyes.

"Is it because of what I said to you on the porch?" Julio asked. "I shouldn't have said that. I was just mad. I should've let you open up about it on your own time."

"But that's the thing," his voice cracked out. "I never would have. I just buried it deep inside of me like it never happened — like if I didn't put a name on it, then it never happened, but it did. You were right." The lump in his throat was so big that it was even harder to get the next words out. They came out on a sob, which made them a bit louder than the others and that made him cry even harder. "She raped me."

This time, Ricardo hugged him. He pulled him against his chest and let him soak his shirt with tears while he rubbed his back. Suddenly, that same emotion he'd felt while running was back and it was just as strong. He understood it now, though, as it washed over him. He knew what it was.

It was hatred. He hated Clementine Martin.

* * *

Drake grabbed the four books off of his computer desk, then stacked them up in the middle of the floor right between his bed and the door. It was the _Divergent_ series ( _Divergent, Insurgent, Allegiant and Four: A Divergent Story Collection_ ). He'd finished all of them and needed to return them, but he knew he'd forget unless he literally put them in the way of his path to the bathroom in the morning.

Drake sat down and started petting his kittens when they surrounded him. Suddenly, the door whipped opened and hit the stack of books, knocking it over.

"Hey, bro." Julio looked down. "Shit. Oops." A more confused look took over his face. "Why are these here?"

"So I don't forget that they need to go back to Mrs. Hayfer. Are you still going tomorrow?"

"Her neighbors said it was cool?" When Drake nodded, he asked, "You mind dropping me off?" His license were suspended after the DUI.

"Sure."

"Cool. You don't have to set an alarm or anything. I'll just go whenever you wake up." There was a moment of awkward silence, then Julio asked what he'd really come to ask. "How are you doing?"

"Well, I think I've cried all that I can cry for now."

"You gonna be alright on your own tonight?"

"Yeah. Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer are keeping me company."

"I'm sure they've missed you after you spent the week in my room."

"Yeah." Drake picked up one of the kittens and held him against his chest.

"Alright, I'm gonna go on to bed. Night."

"Night."

Soon after he left, Drake reached over and turned off his lamp, then laid down. He wasn't like that for long before he received a text. He picked up his phone to check.

 **Dahlia Martin: u cant ignore me**

* * *

When Drake walked inside, he went into the kitchen, which is where he heard noises coming from. Ricardo was packing a lunch for work. He wrapped up the two leftover fajitas from last night and headed for the pantry. On his way, he saw Drake.

"Hey, did you think to tell Mrs. Hayfer I'm not gonna make it to dinner again tonight?"

"I did."

"I feel bad. This is the second time in a row I've had to skip because someone's called out on me."

"She understands," Drake said as he sat down on a bar-stool.

Ricardo glanced at him as he carried a bag of cheeto puffs back to his lunchbox. His sickness seemed to have subsided for the most part. "What's that?"

"I stopped by the library and got a book."

Ricardo moved closer and looked over the boy's shoulder to read the title, which was _Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction_. There were immediately red flags. "Back to drug books?"

"I just wanted to go back to my kind of book. I liked what people kept recommending, but I just wanted to do my own thing again for a while."

The fact that it was about addiction wasn't the only thing to watch out for. It was about a father who most likely cared and loved his son. Drake never had that. That alone could be dangerous.

"Well," he sighed, then he moved towards the counter to pour some coffee into his travel mug, "you know what I always tell you when you read shit like that. If it gets overwhelming, just put it down and take a breather. Even if it's mid-chapter. I know that's annoying."

"I know." _Beautiful Boy_ was written by David Sheff, father of meth addict Nic Sheff, who had written _Tweak_ , the first book Drake had checked out from the library. When the young man had read that book, he'd had to take a lot of breaks.

"And you know there's plenty of people you can talk to if you need to."

He did know. A lot of people supported him now, or maybe they already had. Maybe he just never was willing to accept that support until now.

"I know," he said again.

Ricardo picked up his lunchbox, travel mug, keys and wallet and started towards the front door. "Alright, I'm heading out. Be good."

"Always," Drake called over his shoulder.

* * *

"Drake, hey, come on in," Mrs. Hayfer said as she held the door open wider. "You feeling better?"

"Still a bit stuffy, but I do feel a lot better."

"That's good."

Drake followed her into the kitchen. When he saw that the table wasn't yet prepared, he started to help set it. "Is that pot roast?"

"It is. With carrots and peas and potatoes."

"It smells amazing," he said. "Where's Julio?"

"He's in the shower. He did a good job on the yard."

"Yeah, I saw. It looks good." The young man set the third plate down, then went for the silverware. "Did Julio give you your books back?"

"He did. How'd you like them?"

"They were really good. Thanks for letting me borrow them."

They continued their light chat about their thoughts on the books, the characters, the ending, et cetera. Drake told her about the book he'd gotten at the library and summarized the chapters he had read so far. While he did this, Alice moved the food to the table and Julio entered the kitchen just in time to help her with the vegetables.

The three gathered around the table and dug in. Continuing with the book conversation, the teacher began telling the boys about her summer reading list and Julio discussed his indecisiveness about whether he wanted to go back to school or back to work. Drake told them about rehearsals and about one song in particular that he enjoyed practicing the most. Alice invited him to bring his copy one day when he wasn't busy so that she could see the film before the live production.

"You're coming?" the boy asked.

"Of course. If you don't mind."

He didn't mean to look so shocked, but sometimes her kindness still took him by surprise. She saved his life twice. She went to see him everyday in the ICU. She visited him in the mental hospital. She came to his surprise birthday party. She gave him the opportunity to earn money. She fed him dinner. She let him borrow books. She opened her door to him when he was upset. She offered him a place to live. He'd called her a cunt in front of the whole class back in high school and now she was coming to see him perform in _Rent_ to show support...as if she even needed to do anything more than she already did to prove that she cared about him.

"No, that would be great," Drake said.

Julio saw his friend glowing with excitement as he continued to gush about his favorite musical of all time. Music was a long-time passion for Drake and although he wasn't rocking out at their usual spot like they used to do together, at least he was back on stage in some form and doing what he loved to do.

* * *

"Knock knock."

Drake turned towards his bedroom door to see Ricardo. "Hey, what's up?" He picked up a stack of movies out of one of the drawers in his computer desk and carried it over to the bookshelf Mrs. Hayfer had gotten for him.

"Not tired?"

"I was gonna do this before I lay down."

"What are you doing?"

"Putting my books and movies over here."

Ricardo took a seat on the foot of the bed and watched Drake work in silence for a minute before it finally clicked.

"Is everything okay?" the boy asked as he brushed his hair out of his face. He took a seat in the computer chair and tried to search his mind for a reason as to why he might be in trouble. It came to him just as Ricky spoke.

"I wanted to talk about you not taking your medicine. We didn't get to yesterday since Dee was over."

Drake sighed, then spun back towards his desk and began pulled out more DVD cases. "There's really nothing to talk about."

"Look, I'm not here to argue or yell at you. I just want you to hear me out and I'll hear you out." Ricardo absently pet whichever kitten nudged his elbow as he watched his friend add the stack in his hand to the shelf. "I know taking this medicine is a weird transition. My brother and I just want you to get better and because of what you've been through and the way that it still affects you, I don't think... Obviously, I'm glad you're gonna see that counselor and I think it could be really good, but I just think that you need...a little more help than that." He was met with more silence, but then there was a sigh on Drake's end.

"I just feel like the pills aren't changing anything. I've been taking them long enough for them to have kicked in. If they were gonna work, they should be working by now."

"We can talk to someone about trying something different."

"I just don't like taking meds. Either they don't work or they do and then I'm not even me anymore."

"Of course you'll still be you, Drake. Taking medication to make your day go by easier doesn't change who you are. You become the person you were meant to be before all the sadness."

"Julio never started taking his prescription when he went years ago because he didn't want the pills to change him either."

Ricardo knew then that this wasn't Drake talking. It was Dahlia. Even after all this time apart, she was still in his head. Her thoughts clouded up his mind. Her words came out of his mouth.

The boy continued. "Why doesn't _he_ have to take medicine? Why do you both want _me_ to change so badly? What's wrong with _this_ me?"

"God, no, nothing, Drake. We love this you," Ricky assured. "I don't want you to change. I just want you to be happy."

He didn't have anymore films or novels to put away, but he didn't want to have to face the man when he spoke to him, so he started rearranging things in alphabetical order. His voice was quiet when it left him. "What if that's not possible?"

"I don't believe that."

Drake fell silent, but Ricardo stayed. He sat there trying to think of the right words to say, but they weren't coming to him. This was all Dahlia. Even after the bad break-up, she still controlled him.

"Drake—" The man stopped abruptly. Despite how much he didn't like the girl, she was still his ex-fiancée and Drake was still quick to defend her always. He sighed. "...Drake, do you remember before everything happened when you had that appointment to get medicine for the first time? You were really excited to go, but then Dahlia got in your ear and you changed your mind. Do you know why she didn't want you to get help? It's because she didn't want you to be happy. She knew she wouldn't be able to control you if she stopped being the only good thing you thought you had in your life. She wanted your depression and your anxiety and your insecurities and your fear to weigh you down so that she could use that to her advantage and manipulate you into doing whatever she wanted. Nothing she told you was true — nothing about what she said me and Julio think about you and certainly nothing she told you about yourself. I wish you'd stop letting her get in your head."

"Why do you always have to make this a you verses Clem thing? I'm not a kid. I can make my own decisions. Just because I don't agree with you, it doesn't mean I decided not to take meds because she didn't want me to. I don't want to take them because _I_ don't want to."

This wasn't true, but Drake didn't see it. He was always under constant control, whether by her or Martin or Tad or even Ricardo. Control is one thing that he'd never had and had never been taught. Since his preteens, his father had complete control over him. Even when he wasn't with him, Drake always heard his voice inside his head. There was a time when Tad had ruled over him. A simple look could get the boy on his knees. When he'd left everything and everyone and became homeless, he still hadn't been in control of his life. Charlie had. Those men who told him how they wanted it had. Those men who didn't take no for an answer and did things the way they wanted to had. Ricardo, who had the best of intentions and never forced anything but the start of his sobriety three years ago, controlled him, too, but in a different way. He wasn't demanding or manipulating or anything like that. He simply spoke his opinion and Drake had always been so eager to please him that he usually listened for the most part.

Since he was born, Drake had been a passenger in his own body. His father had taught him that no matter how much he begged or fought, he would never be in control of his own life. There were times when he'd let Martin have his way with him. Sometimes, he wouldn't even resist. He let Tad fuck him in his and Meelah's secret spot at the park. He let Dahlia hit him. He let Charlie take over just to numb himself from all this.

It was like Seligman's psychology experiment on learned helplessness. The dog became conditioned to the idea that it couldn't escape the shocks being administered to it, so even when it had the chance to get away, it just laid down and accepted the pain. In a way, it accepted that it had no control of his own life. Drake was this dog.

Ricardo sighed, but despite his dissatisfaction, he said, "I said I wasn't going to argue, so I'm not gonna keep pushing you to do something you don't wanna do. You know where I stand on it and I hope you at least think about it. No matter what you choose, you can always come to me and talk about anything. Don't think I don't wanna hear about your feelings because you won't take medicine."

"You're mad."

"No, I'm not mad. A little disappointed with your decision, but that's exactly what it is: _your_ decision."

"I just don't like taking them." Finally, Drake turned in his chair and looked at him.

"I know."

"Maybe the counseling will work," he said optimistically.

"Yeah, I hope so. I really do."

* * *

Hero looked down at her lap where Drake's head lay. She could tell by his slow breathing that he had fallen asleep. She was pretty exhausted herself after the sex they'd had not too long ago, but she hated sleeping during the daytime.

Although he was asleep, she continued to run her fingers through his brown hair like she had been doing. She reached for the remote that rested on the arm of the couch and turned the television volume down slightly. Last night's recording of _America's Got Talent_ was playing. He always asked her not to watch it without him, hence why she was a day late, but she knew that he was just trying to please her. He never complained or gave off any verbal hints, but she knew he didn't like the show. This wasn't the first time he had fallen asleep during it.

Still, she thought it was nice of him to keep her company. Her relationship with Drake wasn't serious, but every now and then, she found herself wondering what it would be like if it was. He was kind to her. Her understood her tragic loss and her daddy issues. He always seemed to say the right things. The sex was great. He didn't try to rush her into putting a name on whatever it was they had. He asked once and they discussed it and he hasn't brought it up since. He was just content with being with her and she was beginning to wonder if that would be enough for her.

Hero was falling in love with him. She couldn't keep denying it. She always tried to suppress those feelings, but they only grew stronger. She was in love with a twenty-two year old kid. She was old enough to be his mother and that's probably what she was to him — some kind of replacement to help him release his pent up mommy issues. He didn't talk about her. She only knew what he'd said back at the mental hospital. He fucked up really bad and got kicked out. He hadn't seen her in three years.

He probably didn't even share the same feelings. Maybe they'd formed some sort of strange connection because of where they met and she was sure he genuinely enjoyed her company, but he couldn't possibly be in love with her. She was old. She was boring. Sure, the sex was fun and the conversation was nice, but Drake would never want to be in a serious committed relationship with her. When he brought that up, it was because of his mommy issues and the confusion they caused.

 _Ding!_

Hero glanced at the cell phone that rested on the coffee table in front of her. It was Drake's. Her eyes then turned to the boy, but he remained immobile. She looked at his bare chest, which still rose and fell in that same slow pattern. One of his hands was under his head and the other on her knee. Before he had fallen asleep, he was rubbing gently up and down her skin. She was only wearing a tank top and panties because today felt like one of those days where they would fuck and then watch tv and then fuck again and then eat and then fuck again and then nap and then fuck again. The last time they spent a day like this, he gave her cunnilingus for three hours straight. She'd had a whopping twelve orgasms and that was just in that time frame alone. It didn't include the times of actual penetration when he had recharged and was ready to go.

Drake was one of those guys who loved pleasuring the person he was with just as much as he liked getting off himself. He would spend all day between her legs if she wanted him to. He was very skilled in that department, but he'd had a lot of practice. He'd slept with a lot of different girls — guys, too — and that gave him a lot of experience. There were a few people in particular that he learned from. Meelah was the first girl he'd gone with willingly. She taught him the basics and helped him unlearn everything that fucker from the mental hospital had taught him about sex. She was the love of his life and he'd made love to her on an emotional and spiritual level.

He learned a lot from Kenzly, too. Neither had been strangers to sex, but they were still young and curious. They did a lot of practicing and experimenting during their many sessions. They came to each other with new positions, new role-plays, new fantasies. Anything they were too embarrassed to mess up on with someone new, they would get together and try it out on each other first. Their sex life could be described as freaky and weird, but in the best way possible.

Molly introduced toys, bondage, torture and humiliation. She was Drake's subconscious decision to justify what was happening to him at home and to help him cope with the fact that sometimes he ejaculated even when he didn't want to. She was the pain he thought he deserved — the punishment to his body for being so weak and damaged. She was the first person he allowed to peg him, which opened his world up to an entirely new feeling. He became curious.

The first dick he ever sucked belonged to Tad and it certainly wasn't the last time that man had put his penis in Drake's mouth. He was with Tad for his first threesome, too. An entirely different array of new emotions, positions, role-plays and toys entered the picture. It was from him and from his dad and from the men at the truck stop and from the nurse at the mental hospital and from Dahlia that he learned what was probably the most important, yet most damaging lesson of all: that his only purpose in life was to provide sexual gratification to any man or woman that demanded it from him. He was a sex object. He was a dick. He was an anus. He was a mouth. Those were the parts of him that seemed to get the most use. They were the only parts that anyone seemed to care about. Maybe that's why he loved pleasing his sex partners so much. Maybe now he can use all he was taught on people who actually appreciated it — who actually appreciated _him_. Maybe that's the only way he'd ever feel worth something.

 _Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!_ Drake's phone was blowing up and somehow this still didn't wake him. After one last _ding!_ , Hero picked up his phone. She was just going to check to see if it was either of his friends because she knew that if either of them were trying to get in touch with him this aggressively, then something was wrong. She wasn't going to open it — she hated people who pried — but when she saw the name of Drake's ex on the screen, she couldn't stop herself. His phone wasn't currently password protected so it opened right up to the messages from Clem. Well, they were mostly just pictures — four of them.

 **Dahlia Martin: hey hubby. I miss ur cute face. here r those pics u were begging for**

 **Dahlia Martin: [picture message]**

 **Dahlia Martin: [picture message]**

 **Dahlia Martin: [picture message]**

 **Dahlia Martin: [picture message]**

 **Dahlia Martin: enjoy! [wink emoji]**

Hero lost her breath when she saw the nude photos and her face went beet red. The first emotion that filled her was sadness, then jealousy, then anger. She shouldn't feel jealous right now. Why was she jealous? It's not like they were a couple. Drake had asked. She was the one who had said no. They talked about this. They talked about keeping things casual. They talked about not tying each other down. They talked about being allowed to fuck other people, so why was she jealous?

She'd fallen for him. That's why. Hero had fallen for someone she could never be with. They were too different. He was too young. She was too damaged. Most importantly, her father would never approve. Drake was a jobless, white ex-junkie who was half her age. Her dad would never approve of him. She was forty-four years old and he still had a strong grasp on her life.

She and Drake would never work and why should it? Why should he hang around her when he has such young, hot pussy practically throwing herself at him? She couldn't compete. She couldn't keep doing this. He could never love her like that — like she loved him.

"Hey, it's time for you to go." Hero put his phone back where it had been and shook his shoulder. "Hey, wake up." She stood, causing his head to suddenly fall against the couch. This woke him. She disappeared into the bedroom, then came back moments later carrying his jeans and shirt. "You need to leave."

Drake pushed himself up tiredly and rubbed his heavy eyes. "Hmm?"

"It's time for you to go." She tossed his clothes at him, but he was half asleep and didn't catch the passive aggression in the sling.

"Oh, okay." He pulled the shirt over his head, then picked up his pants and stuck his feet through the holes. "Time is it?" His voice was strained from tiredness. He lazily pulled the denim up his legs, then forced himself onto his feet to finish pulling the jeans up over his boxers.

"A little after one."

Drake saw the sun shining through the window and this struck him as odd that he was being sent home so early. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No."

"Did something come up?"

"No. I just wanna be alone."

He buttoned and zipped his pants, then started on the belt that was already looped through. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she spat.

"Are you sur—"

"I said I'm fine!" snapped Hero.

Drake's brows furrowed. "Did I do something?"

"I just want you to go."

He just stood there baffled at this sudden mood shift. She'd never acted like this towards him before and he was extremely confused.

"Go!" The upset woman grabbed his wrist and the sudden movement caused his to flinch. She started pulling him towards the front door.

"I don't understand. What did I do?"

He sounded like a wounded puppy if wounded puppies could talk. She hated that she was being so cruel to him, but she couldn't find it in herself to not treat him this way. She was furious and sad and frustrated and suddenly she started to cry, which left the young man even more confused.

"Did I say something in my sleep? Did I hurt your feelings? I'm sorry. I'm all fucked up."

"You didn't say anything. I just want you to leave."

"But like, not for good, right?" he asked with a childlike hope in his voice. "Right?" He felt a heaviness in his chest when she didn't answer. "I'm sorry. What did I do? I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. You know I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

They were at the front door now. Hero opened it for him, but he just turned back to her.

"I'm sorry. I really like you. I didn't mean to fuck this up."

"I want you to leave."

"Please, just — what did I do?"

Her tears fell freely — too many to wipe away. "Go."

"I don't understand. I don't know — I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She clenched her teeth together to keep herself from letting out the sobs that were gathered in her throat. "Drake," she said so harshly that it even scared _her_ , "get out."

As he stared at her in utter confusion, she saw his eyes glaze over with water. He was being discarded again. He was being kicked to the curb, just like his own mother had done to him twice before. This time, however, he didn't know what he'd done to deserve it. He didn't dare to speak again because Hero looked like she was ready to bite his head off and tear it into shreds. Instead, he did what she said and he left. As he walked down the sidewalk, he was completely unaware that Dahlia was watching him from behind a tree.

* * *

"Uh...H7."

"Miss," Dee said.

"Where the fuck...?" Ricardo whispered under his breath as he picked up a white peg and stuck in into his Battleship map.

Both of them were on the couch facing each other and Julio was on the floor watching. He could see both of their boards and Dee was winning by three ships. He'd won against Julio, too, so if he did beat Ricardo, then he'd get his rematch and he was starting to see a pattern as to where Dee hid his ships.

"D1," Dee guessed.

"Miss."

Their attention turned to the front door as it opened. Ricardo couldn't even get out a greeting before Drake went past and jogged upstairs. Obviously, something was wrong. Luckily, Julio stepped in so that he wouldn't have to separate from his boyfriend.

"I got this one."

He went upstairs and found his friend in his bedroom. Drake was breathing heavily as an attempt to cease his crying and calm himself, but he wasn't doing so well.

"What's wrong?"

"Hero kicked me out."

"Why? What happened?" He sat on the edge of the bed and faced his friend.

"I don't know, but she doesn't wanna see me again." Drake could no longer hold back the sobs. He hung his head and rested it in his hand as his back jerked. When Julio reached out to give him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, Drake shoved his hand away a bit more aggressively than he meant to. Despite this, his voice was soft. "Please don't."

"Okay." Julio backed up even further until he was at the foot of the bed to give his friend more space. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

He was quiet for a while and just offered the comfort of his company. Getting dumped sucked, but Julio didn't quite understand why Drake was so upset. He and Hero haven't known each other for that long and he said they were just keeping it casual. He just fucked some girl in his theatre group the other day. How could he be this upset about the split?

"Did you guys have an argument?"

"No. I don't know what happened. She just woke me up and kicked me out." Drake wiped his nose and sniffled, but he continued to cry. "I kept apologizing, but she didn't care. She wouldn't even tell me what I did." His voice cracked out, "Like I'm not even worth an explanation."

With those words, Julio understood. He wasn't upset about the end of the relationship or the semi-relationship or whatever it was. This was Drake's first semblance of a relationship since Dahlia and despite the inevitable end that was bound to come at some point, he felt personally at fault for it being over.

"Something's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you," Julio disagreed.

"No one fucking likes me."

"Of course they do, bruh."

"Clem was right. No one will ever wanna be with me. I'm too fucked up."

"You're not. You just broke things off with your fiancée. You're just beginning to put yourself back out there. You can't expect to find something serious with the first woman that takes you home. There are plenty of girls who throw themselves at you all the time — guys, too."

"But then they get caught in all my chaos and they get to know who I really am and they leave. I'm gonna be alone forever."

On the outside, it looked like Drake was whining about a pre-doomed, kind-of-not-really relationship he had been in for less than a month, but Julio knew what was actually going on on the inside. Drake was spiraling and not because of Hero; this had nothing to do with Hero. He was reliving the moments when his dad and Dahlia had put him down. They always told him this would happen — that no one could ever love him. They would tell him everything that was wrong with him. Most of them were made up just to hurt him, but he believed everything they said.

"Alright." Julio stood. "Come with me."

"Why?"

"Get up. Let's go."

Downstairs, Dee was pulling the red and white pegs out of his Battleship map. "Wow, you sank one whole ship in the time it took me to sink five of yours."

"So you're gonna brag now?

"I just feel like that's gotta be statistically impossible."

"Shut the fuck up."

Just then, the two younger boys passed by the living room and disappeared out the front door just as quickly as Drake had entered it not long ago. The couple on the couch looked at each other with confusion and curiosity.

"You need to go see what's up?" Dee asked.

He considered it. His first instinct was to run after them and make sure they weren't about to do anything dumb. Clearly, Drake was upset, so either Julio was about to make him feel better by beating the shit out of whomever had hurt him (which is what he'd looked like he was going to do) or he was going to make him feel better by taking him out to get drunk. Those were the only two things that Ricardo could think of. Julio drinking would be catastrophic. Surely, Drake wouldn't let that happen, but he was upset and Drake could do a lot of damage to himself and others when he was upset.

However, he trusted Drake and he trusted his brother. He couldn't keep letting their problems consume his life. He had a relationship to consider now. He had his own life.

"No. Julio said he'll handle it, so..."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. They'll be fine without me this time."

Now Dee felt as important to Ricardo as Ricardo was to him. His lips turned upwards slightly and he was reminded just how much he loved the man sitting next to him. "Julio looked like he's gonna beat someone's ass," he joked.

"Little bro's gotta protect his big bro."

Dee watched Ricardo pick up the box for the game and put his map inside. "No rematch, huh?"

"Hell no."

"Not ready to take that ass whooping?"

"I didn't say that." With that, the tone of the conversation went from competitive to sexual.

"No?" Dee said with a smirk. "You tryna smash?"

This made Ricardo laugh. "Well, this no-sex thing doesn't mean we can't fool around a little, right?"

"I don't know. I've been thinking that this no-sex thing is a little...antiquated."

"Yeah?"

"Because we're hitting our thirties. Some of us closer than others."

"Fuck you," Ricardo said playfully.

"Well, if you say so."

There was a look shared between them and then they were both connected at the lips. They hadn't fucked in weeks, but neither could hold off anymore and it showed. Dee pulled his boyfriend's shirt off, then pushed his back down against the couch and climbed on top of him. They continued to kiss for a few moments, then Ricardo pushed him up.

"What if they come back?"

"Fuck 'em."

Dee could feel the man smiling when he pressed their lips together again. Ricky's hands were on his waist and as they moved upwards, they pushed Dee's tee up to his armpits. Dee pulled away only to remove it, then he was back on him again.

* * *

"I don't really want to—"

"I don't care," Julio interrupted. "We're going."

Drake wasn't crying anymore, so that was good at least. After getting in the driver's seat, he learned that their destination was Hero's house. This was the last place he wanted to be, but Julio was very demanding and Drake worried that he might get behind the wheel with a suspended license and take the boy there himself if he didn't obey him. Julio believed that Hero had called it quits because of her own shit and not because of Drake's shit. He didn't want his best friend to feel so loathsome and insecure about himself, so Hero and Drake were going to talk this out one way or another.

However, if it _was_ because of Drake's baggage, Julio wasn't sure how he would comfort the boy yet, but he would probably think of something once his friend started crying because he was always able to help him through rough times upon seeing his tears. It was kind of crazy actually. All those years of knowing each other and the first time Drake had cried in front of him was after Rhinestone had told everyone about him giving fellacio to Tad for an A. That was the last time until he moved in three years ago, then he was crying everyday. Getting off those drugs left him an emotional wreck. There were constant spirals, mood swings, meltdowns. It was just as new to Drake as it was to the two brothers and he was thankful that they were there to help him through all the new overwhelming emotions. Even though crying was a frequent occurrence with Drake, Julio's heart broke for him every time. Even back at the hospital after telling him he hated him, Julio still comforted him when he was upset about having to get a larger draining tube put in his side and having to have the surgery on his ribs. In the mental hospital, the first thing Julio did on visitation day after hearing the news of what had happened to him there in his childhood was give him a hug. No matter how much he'd hated him, he could never forget just how much he loved him.

"What am I supposed to say?" Drake said.

"Just ask for an explanation."

"I already did."

"Ask again."

"This just feels weird," said the young man. "I mean, we weren't even serious. We were just fucking. If she doesn't wanna do that anymore, she really doesn't owe me an explanation for that."

"You had feelings for her, though." Julio said, catching his friend off guard.

"No." He was interrupted before he could say more.

"Yes, you did."

Drake went quiet. Julio wasn't wrong. He did have feelings for Hero. It was way too soon to call it love, but he really enjoyed her company. He knew Hero didn't feel the same because she made it very clear that she wasn't his girlfriend when he brought it up, but he was okay with that. Jumping into a relationship this soon after the whole Dahlia thing was not a good idea anyway.

They drove the rest of the way in silence and it wasn't long before they pulled into Hero's driveway. Drake didn't feel right about showing up unannounced, so after he turned off the ignition, he pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" Julio asked.

"I'm texting her."

 **Drake Parker: im outside can we talk**

"Does it look like I've been crying?" he asked.

"Uhhh, lil bit," Julio answered honestly.

"Shit," Drake whispered to himself as he checked the mirrors. His sniffled, but he wasn't really stuffed up so much anymore.

Drake started to think that she didn't want to talk, but finally after three minutes, she opened the front door. Despite spending the last couple minutes fixing up her makeup in the bathroom, it was obvious that she, too, had been crying. She watched as the boy got out of the car and walked up her driveway. As he neared closer, she moved to the side and let him come in.

"You brought your friend?"

"Sorry, he kinda invited himself."

"He's not coming in?"

"No."

Hero closed the door and led him into the dining room. It felt less intimate that she chose to sit across from him here rather than next to him on the couch. It was like she was strictly business.

"I'm sorry to just show up," he started after they were both seated.

Hero felt awful when she met his red-rimmed eyes. He'd been crying. He'd been crying because of her. This puzzled her because he couldn't possibly love her.

"I just feel like I don't know what I did," he said. "You know I would never do anything on purpose to hurt you."

"Let me see your phone," she said.

"What?"

"Let me see."

Drake handed it over. He had nothing to hide. He had nothing to hide, right? He didn't have anyone's nudes saved, but he started getting paranoid that maybe he did. He hadn't texted any other girls, but what if he had? He got nervous like this a lot. It reminded him of the room checks Ricardo used to give him frequently. He had been clean and sober from Triple C's. He hadn't bought a box, but sometimes he would panic and question it. Like, maybe he did buy a box and forgot. Once, he was at this place that had metal detectors. He never owned a gun, but it didn't stop him from having a mini freak-out and ponder if he did somehow have a gun on him suddenly. It's like when you take the car key out of the ignition and put it in your pocket, then you grab your wallet and still check to be sure you grabbed the key, then you get out and lock the door and double-check to make sure you didn't leave the key. After you close the door, you check once more just to be sure that you have it. Drake did stuff like this all the time.

He was nervous when she held his phone out to him. Apparently, she went through it earlier, but he was more concerned with what she had found than that fact. Maybe she found him talking shit about her to someone else. He never once did that, but maybe he did and forgot. Maybe she was mad at him for posting her private pictures on his Facebook page. He never did that either, but maybe he did and forgot. He didn't have the best memory after getting off drugs, but being off drugs also made him think that his memory was worse than it actually was, if that made sense. Like, if he did talk shit about her or post her nudes to his Facebook, it would surprise him that he did that, but it wouldn't surprise him that he forgot even though his memory wasn't anywhere near bad enough to forget something such as that.

Already, he was wracking his brain for an apology sufficient enough for publicly posting her vagina for all the world to see. Anxiety could create some of the craziest scenarios. However, when he took his phone back, it wasn't Hero's naked body that he saw. He took a sudden sharp inhale from the shock of seeing that face and that body again and it just occurred to him that he had been holding his breath. She was so fucking hot and he was still so fucking in love with her. He missed waking up to that face every morning — or sometimes waking up to no face, but instead the touch of her lips on his penis. He missed when she would read out of her medical text book to him. Hearing all those smart, fancy doctor words come out of her mouth was sexy and always turned him on. He missed buying her things and seeing how excited she became when she got new shoes or new makeup. He missed her.

Drake pulled his eyes away from the screen and hoped he did that as quickly as he thought. After seeing Clem again, he'd lost his train of thought and had to recall exactly what he was doing. How did these pictures get on his phone? He never saw these before.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Those were sent to you while you were asleep," Hero explained. "I didn't mean to be nosy. I just saw her name and...I don't know."

"She's lying," Drake said. "I never asked her for these. I haven't even spoken to her—"

"She's very pretty," Hero interrupted. "Isn't she?"

This sounded like one of those trick questions women ask to trap men. Drake didn't know what to say.

"I..." He couldn't say no because that was obviously a lie. "I guess, but-"

"She's pretty. You can say it."

He was losing this woman over a jealousy thing? Was that it? "Hero, _you_ 're fucking pretty."

"I know. You tell me every time you get the chance," she said.

"And I mean it. Seriously, I never asked her to send these."

"It's okay if you did," Hero said, "because we're not dating, right? We talked about this. We talked about being okay with each other sleeping with other people. I'm not the only woman you've been with since we met, I'm sure?"

Suddenly, Drake was beginning to regret the bathroom quickie he'd had with Sal. He didn't know what to say, but Hero didn't leave him with his mouth hanging open for long.

"It's okay. You don't have to answer that."

Still, he felt like an apology was necessary. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, you don't have to apologize. We discussed it. This is what we decided on. It's just that..." Hero looked down at her hands as she twiddled her fingers. "I started..."

She chuckled nervously and lifted her head back up, but looked off to the side. When she did this, Drake could see that she was beginning to weep. He reached out and took her hand, but this only made things worse.

"You're so fucking sweet to me," she said. "I never thought... After my husband passed, I never thought I'd find anyone else, but then you came along and I started having feelings for you."

Now this jealousy was beginning to make sense. There were two ways that this could go. Either he could let her go or he could make this official. Now that their feelings were caught between things, they couldn't just remain casual fuck friends and emotional supporters. Even though he knew jumping into a new relationship this soon wasn't a good idea, he didn't want to lose her.

"I have feelings for you, too," he said honestly. "I wanna be with you."

"Drake, I'm too old for you."

"That doesn't matter," he said. "My friend Rhinestone is my age and he's with a guy in his forties and they've been together for, like, two years." He figured it would be best not to mention Molly. Their relationship had been strictly sex and no emotion anyway. "We can work it out," he said and this gave her hope. "I don't know how things will go, but being with you has been great so far and I'm willing to commit to you and see where this goes. Maybe we belong together or maybe we're not meant for each other. I don't know, but I wanna find out."

"Drake..." She paused like she was really giving it some thought. "I think it would be best for us to go our separate ways before it gets any harder to say goodbye."

"But what if we don't have to say goodbye?"

"You're still in love with her."

Drake froze. This caught him off guard and he didn't know how to respond. He felt her pull her hand away from him.

"I could tell," Hero said, "when you looked at her pictures. I mean, I always suspected it, but I know what love looks like when I see it."

"It's over — me and her. We're done."

"A couple weeks ago, when I was at work at the youth center, this girl came in and started asking about the programs we have, then she got more personal and started asking about me — innocent at first, like how long I'd worked there, but then she told me her name and introduced herself as your fiancée."

Drake's heart started beating faster. Clementine talked to Hero and he knew that this wasn't good.

"She told me a lot about you. You know, like we were both women and women have to watch out for each other. That kind of talk. She was really friendly. At that time, we were just fucking and I didn't really care who you were, but then you and I got really close really fast and I can't stop thinking about it." Hero averted her eyes and hesitated. She couldn't look at him when she asked, "Is it all true?"

Drake's breathing got faster and his mouth was dry. "I don't know what she told you."

Hero could hear the fear in his voice and that made her think that Dahlia had been telling the truth. However, now was her chance to get a true answer. "She said you cheated on her. She said you disappeared for months without a word and then you came back and then cheated on her again."

Drake's eyes were suddenly glazed over with water and he looked as though he was going to start crying, too. He didn't have a response, but this was enough of an answer for Hero.

"How can you promise to stay committed to me when you couldn't even commit to the person you were engaged to?"

Finally, he spoke up. "I made a mistake. I've never forgiven myself for it. I was fucked up on drugs and..."

She saw a tear drip across his cheek before he had the chance to wipe it away. He hung his head with shame.

"I started prostituting." He sniffled.

Hero knew that he had done this because he mentioned it in group therapy back at the mental hospital, but he never said that it was so recent and that he did it while he had a girl at home.

"It was never about me wanting to fuck some other girl. I only slept with men for money. It was mostly only blowjobs." His explanation didn't make this any less worse and he knew this. "I know it doesn't make it okay. I was just..." Another sniffle. His voice cracked when he said, "I don't know. I couldn't quit."

"But you're clean now?"

"Yes."

"When was the last time you used?" she asked. "Be honest with me."

Drake felt like the hugest fuck-up on the planet. His impulsive decisions always came back to bite him in the ass. He always worked hard to pull himself out of all the shit he buried himself in just to have it come back and fuck him over again.

Hero went on when he didn't answer. "You said back at the hospital that you were clean. Was that true?"

"Yes."

"And have you used since then?"

There was more silence, then she heard a sniffle.

"When?"

Drake hated himself. He hated himself for ever starting to use and he hated himself for the relapse he knew he had to admit to and he hated himself for wishing he had Charlie here to help him through this now. "July first."

"You had a relapse that day?"

"That week," he admitted. "That was the last day I used and then I made up my mind to quit."

"For now." Her words actually hurt his feelings.

"For good," he corrected.

"Were you ever high when you were with me?"

 _Why can't I do anything right? Why do I fuck everything up?_ His voice came out so quiet that she had to strain her ears to hear him when he choked out a, "Yes."

"You took drugs in my house?"

"Yes." He couldn't lift his head he felt so ashamed. He rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, then clasped them together behind his neck. "I'm so sorry."

She could tell that he really meant it. "She said that she caught you looking at pictures of other girls."

The only time Drake could think of was when she caught him looking at old pictures of Meelah, which was wildly exaggerating considering that it was implied that they were dirty pictures.

"She also said that you hit her and that she threatened to call the police on you several times."

The police thing was true. They'd had some nasty fights throughout there relationship and more than a few had included a threat to call the authorities, but Drake would put a stop to this by either grabbing her phone away or leaving.

"I never hit her."

"She said you gave her a concussion the day you packed your things and left."

The fact that Dahlia was going around and saying this about him made him both nervous and infuriated.

"I pushed her," he admitted and now it sounded like he had been lying to her because he didn't come clean immediately. "She was hitting me and she wouldn't let me up, so I pushed her off me and she hit her head, but it wasn't even that hard. My face and arms were bruised for weeks. I never fucking hit her back. I swear."

"And I believed that." Hero pulled her own cell phone out of her pocket and unlocked it. Moments later, she held it out. "I don't know how the fuck she got my number, but Dahlia sent me this."

Drake lifted his head to look at the picture. It was of his ex and she was covered in the bruises that Carter had given her.

"I didn't do that," the boy denied. "When I left and started pimping myself out, she got with this other guy and _he_ did that. He beat the shit out of me, too. I'm a fucking pussy. I can't hit anybody."

"You hit that nurse at the hospital."

Drake sighed. She was right and now it sounded like she was catching him in even more lies. He was getting overwhelmed and he was crying just as hard as she was now.

"Hero, I swear on fucking everything that I never hit her. I swear."

"You know what, Drake? I believe you. I really do," she said, "but I still don't think we should continue seeing each other. There's the age difference and my baggage and your baggage, but then there's also your fiancée."

"She's not my fiancée anymore," he argued.

"She doesn't seem to get that, Drake, and I can't compete with her. She fights dirty. It was just little things at first. I guess she got pissed that I didn't stop seeing you after she told me about your relationship with her. One day, I got home and found pictures of the two of you together all over my front porch. Another time, I found an at-home HIV test and she left a note saying I needed to be tested if I'm sleeping with you. It was stuff like that for a while, then one day I find a cupcake from a secret admirer on my kitchen counter and I thought it was from you, so I ate some of it, but I didn't really like it because it tasted weird. Twenty minutes later, I was stoned out of my fucking mind. The next day at work, I get called into the office for a drug test and of course I failed. They wouldn't tell me, but I know she went around telling the parents that I'm a drug addict and they told my boss. Now I'm suspended from my job and I'm just waiting to hear if they're gonna fire me or not."

"Jesus, why didn't you tell me?!"

"I thought you might say something to her and then she would know that I was bothered and that would just egg her on even more," Hero said, "but breaking into my house and showing up at my work trying to get me fired..."

"I am _so_ sorry. I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

"I can't keep doing this anymore, Drake."

He couldn't even argue with it at this point.

"She's not gonna stop. This is just the beginning. She's got worse things up her sleeve. I knew a girl like her before. She's got serious mental issues. I really do like you, but the last thing I need in my life right now is this drama."

"I understand," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you got caught up in all this."

"I know."

Drake sniffled and wiped his eyes. "I'll go."

When he stood, Hero stood with him. "I'm sorry," she said. She wrapped her arms around him for one last hug. "I wish things didn't have to end like this."

Drake held on to her tightly and took comfort in her embrace. Sure, he wasn't in love with this woman, but he still had strong feelings for her and an even stronger connection through their losses, so letting her go wasn't easy. He wasn't sure he'd ever find anyone else who understood what it felt like to lose the love of your life and he definitely knew that no one would be as okay with listening to him talk about Meelah as Hero had.

Even when they pulled apart, they stood close together and Drake couldn't stop himself before he connected their lips. Just one last kiss. There was sadness in their kiss. Both of them felt it. When their lips separated, Drake still couldn't get himself to disconnect. Their foreheads touched and their eyes remained closed. She had her hand on his cheek and her thumb brushed across his damp skin. They stayed like that for a moment and then the moment was gone. He finally separated from her, then he grabbed his cell phone and left the dining room. Hero was frozen in place. She looked at the doorway that led out into the hallway where he'd disappeared. Part of her hoped that he would come back, but she knew that this had to happen. This was for the best. When she heard the front door open, then close, she broke down.

Julio was startled when he heard the driver's side door open. He looked up from his phone as his friend slipped into the seat next to him. The boy immediately cranked the vehicle and backed out of the driveway. He said nothing. Drake was crying, but it was the kind of crying that was silent other than the constant sniffles. He frequently wiped his eyes to keep the blurriness from hindering his ability to drive.

Minutes passed before Julio spoke. "What happened?"

"I just wanna go home."

* * *

"Are you eating dinner here?" Ricardo asked as he stepped into the kitchen, his boyfriend in tow.

Dee handed him his wet towel when the man held out his hand, then Ricky went into the laundry room and tossed both of their towels into the hamper. They had just finished showering and the sex had made them work up an appetite. Before Dee could answer his question however, the front door opened. Ricardo only heard footsteps going up the foyer staircase as he moved back into the kitchen.

"Who was that?"

"Drake," Dee said.

Seconds later, the front door closed and Julio came around the corner and entered the kitchen.

"What's up?" Ricardo asked with concern.

"I took Drake to Hero's. The reason he was upset earlier was because she kicked him out suddenly for no reason and broke things off with him, then of course, he got stuck in his own head and was starting to spiral, so I got him to go back and talk to her." Julio sat down in one of the bar-stools. "It turns out it wasn't because of Drake at all. Hero fell in love with him and she was scared of that because of their age difference and get this. Dahlia was threatening her."

"What?" Even though it was Dahlia, Ricardo was still shocked.

"Yeah, she was leaving her STD tests and pictures of her and Drake on her porch. Plus, she broke into her house and left a cupcake laced with pot _'from Drake'_ —" He used air quotes. "—on her kitchen counter, then went to her job and told the parents of the kids she was coaching that Hero was using drugs, so her boss got a bunch of complaints and they drug tested her and they're probably gonna fire her."

"What the fuck?" Ricardo said with disbelief.

"Jesus," said Dee.

Julio continued. "Dahlia told Hero about Drake disappearing on her for those two months and she claimed that Drake hit her. She sent a picture of all those bruises she had after that other guy she was with beat the fuck out of her and told Hero that Drake did it."

"¡Pedazo de mierda! Fucking bitch!"

"Drake told her he didn't do it and she believed him, but she said she couldn't deal with the Dahlia drama, so she ended things for good."

"I can't fucking believe this shit."

"I know," Julio said. "I'm gonna go talk to him and make sure he doesn't call Dahlia on an impulse. We're gonna have to figure out how to deal with this because she's not gonna stop with Hero."

"We can discuss it later. I've gotta cool down a bit before _I_ fucking call Dahlia on an impulse." After his brother headed upstairs, Ricardo hefted down onto one of the bar-stools. "Jesus, this is so fucked."

Dee came up behind him and rubbed his shoulders.

"It's been exactly one week since Drake's last chaos event and I know these haven't been his fault, but fuck, it's like I never get a break. Even though his life has calmed down, this last week wasn't even a break because I spent it getting over a cold and dealing with suddenly finding out my little brother's an alcoholic after he almost drank himself to death. Like shit, can anything else go wrong?"

Dee leaned against his back and wrapped his arms around the man, hugging him from behind. He kissed Ricardo's cheek, then his boyfriend turned his head and kissed him back.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I hate bitching and I sound so fucking selfish whining when Drake and Julio both have serious shit going on."

"Are you kidding me? You're the least selfish person I know."

Ricardo sighed. "I wish he never would've met that girl. I don't know what to do. You never know what she's gonna do next or what she's capable of." After a moment's thought, he said, "If she's broken into some complete stranger's house, she's probably broken in here, too. She could be poisoning our food or fucking with our shit or standing over us with a knife in her hand watching us sleep."

"The bitch is crazy, but do you think she'd actually try to hurt one of you?"

"I mean, before today, I wouldn't have thought so, but now I don't know what to think. Remember when he lived with Dahlia and I told you about that hospital bill that came in the mail? He told Julio at the hospital that he was having a panic attack and she gave him a bunch of pills that turned out to be muscle relaxers. Drake thinks it was an accident and I did, too, but my brother didn't and now I'm starting to agree with him. She's studying to be a doctor. Shouldn't she know that you can't just give someone that many muscle relaxers? Plus, she's the one who told Drake to kill himself and she knows he's unstable enough to do it. You don't fucking tell someone that."

"Maybe you can talk him into getting a restraining order," Dee suggested.

"I don't think he'll do that."

"I know he loves her, but I feel like he can't keep denying how fucking psycho she is now that she drugged the woman he was sleeping with."

"I don't know. Drake's been covering for bad people his whole life. Honestly, I think he wants to get back together with her."

"Seriously? After this?"

"Especially after this. He gets really confused when it comes to abuse and manipulation."

"But she raped him."

Ricardo sighed. "So did his dad, but he never turned his back on him."

Dee was quiet for a moment, then he said. "Why don't you let me cook tonight? We'll relax and eat and then we can all get together and talk about this tomorrow when Drake's more clear-headed and less impulsive."

"You're gonna cook?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I can't say no to that."

Dee smiled, gave him another kiss, then pulled away and went towards the refrigerator.

"I'll help." Ricardo stood and before his boyfriend could refuse, he added, "I need a distraction. Otherwise, I'll just sit there getting more worked up than I already am."

Dee couldn't argue with this, so he grabbed some vegetables out of the fridge and passed them to the man, who turned on the sink and began rinsing them.

* * *

Ricardo was in the kitchen sipping his coffee when Drake walked in. "You're up early," he said. "Where'd you go?"

Drake could immediately smell the bacon and eggs that were cooking. His stomach growled quietly. Even at times when he wasn't hungry, he was always hungry for bacon. "I went to the youth center to talk to Hero's boss."

"A little impulsive, isn't it?"

"I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. It kept me up all night."

"Well, how did it go?"

The young man shrugged. "He was super nice and understanding about it, but he's been getting a lot of pressure from the parents and he's worried they'll pull their kids out if he doesn't fire her. I feel like shit. She loves that job. She loves coaching those kids."

"It's not your fault." The food was finished, so Ricardo turned off the flames and began making two plates. When Drake reached for a slice of bacon, he slapped the boy's hand away. "Make your own. This is for me and Dee."

"Well!" Drake scoffed. "Your boo thang doesn't want bacon. He eats healthy. He probably just wants a protein shake."

"He'll get that for dessert."

The young man was stunned by the sudden sexual innuendo. He was all for his best friend coming out and getting into this great relationship, but he was unprepared for all the gay jokes that followed. "Fucking hell," he whispered.

Ricardo smirked to himself. He was pretty proud of that joke. "Worry about your own boo thang."

"She's not my boo thang."

"Have you thought about how you're gonna handle all this?" He grabbed a couple forks and started putting everything on a tray.

"I'm just gonna leave it. Hero doesn't wanna be caught up in all the bullshit and I respect that, so I guess that's the end of that. As far as Clem goes, I'm just gonna keep ignoring her. Eventually, she'll find someone else and get bored with me."

"I think that's a good idea," he said. "I just hope it works. Things are never that simple with Dahlia."

* * *

Everyone was gone and had been for most of the evening. Ricardo and Dee were both at work and Julio was meeting up with someone from his study group — probably that Hannah girl he had a crush on. Drake never asked him if he ever gave her the bracelet he made her back at the hospital. Whatever had happened, he was sure the alcoholism had gotten in the way, so Julio was probably trying to rebuild that bridge he'd burned.

Drake always had so much shit going on that they never talked much about Hannah, but Julio has been mentioning her every now and then for many months now. He was shy around her, which was different because he used to have girls all over him when they were in a band and he'd slept with more than a few of them. Drake couldn't remember the last time Julio had brought a girl over. He was probably still out there fucking on occasion, but his friend just couldn't seem to get his mind off Hannah. He was probably in love with her. Drake felt guilty for not knowing more due to how selfish he always was. He made a mental note to talk to Julio about it later.

He turned his head and checked the clock. It was a little past eight at night. He wished Julio was here now to hang out with because he was bored and catching up on his friend's love life would keep him occupied. It was so late that Julio was probably out getting laid. Drake wanted that, but he was too lazy to go out and charm someone over and he couldn't be bothered to make the drive if he found someone willing to hook up on Tinder. He really didn't want to get out of bed at all. He'd spent his day scrolling through Facebook, jerking off, eating, watching tv, jerking off, watching YouTube, reading, jerking off and scrolling through Facebook. He wasn't really active on Facebook much and wasting so many hours looking through it today reminded him why. He really didn't give a shit about what anyone was doing. He never even talked to people anymore and honestly, he had no idea who half of his Facebook friends were. Probably old classmates or groupies or people he met on drugs. Really, he just needed to get rid of the whole thing and start over — create a new one with a select few: Julio, Ricardo, Dee, Brett, Samantha, Rhinestone, Theo, Gemini, Sawyer... Who else? Who else did he talk to? Mrs. Hayfer. Maybe she had a Facebook. And then...? He wondered if adding Hero was a dumb idea. It probably was and so was adding Kenzly. Neither of them wanted to speak to him and he really couldn't blame him.

 ** _I sit around and watch the tube but nothing's on_**  
 ** _I change the channels for an hour or two_**  
 ** _Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit_**  
 ** _I'm sick of all the same old shit_**  
 ** _In a house with unlocked doors_**  
 ** _And I'm fucking lazy_**

 ** _Bite my lip and close my eyes_**  
 ** _Take me away to paradise_**  
 ** _I'm so damn bored, I'm going blind_**  
 ** _And I smell like shit_**

The young man reached for his phone when he heard his text alert. It was probably Julio needing a ride home and honestly, Drake would be glad to. He was so bored that he didn't mind doing that at all — anything to get him out of bed. Today was one of those days where he wished he could fall asleep and wake up tomorrow. He felt really down today and he couldn't find anything to distract himself long enough, even his book. He was really into it, but because of the mood he was in, it took everything in him to get through one chapter. His hectic life was settling down again, so his depression was creeping back up on him and he couldn't figure out how to stop it.

Drake looked at his phone and saw his ex fiancee's name next to a sentence on the lock screen.

 **Dahlia Martin: need to talk to u about something important**

His heart fluttered when he read it. This was it. This was what would save him from his depression and boredom. There was no doubt that whatever Dahlia had to say would bring excitement to his life, though it was never clear whether it would be good or bad. Either way, it was something.

He slid the message to the side and this unlocked his phone and took him right to it. He touched the bar so that he could type back and his keyboard popped up. Drake's fingers hovered over the letters as he considered how to respond. He could simply ask what was up or he could begin with a casual sorry for not responding sooner or he could give her an elaborate apology and put himself down to make her feel better and more powerful. He was used to doing the last one and he thought maybe he could get back in her good graces a bit easier by kissing her ass, but as he searched his mind for the right words, his eyes moved upwards to the picture that had been sent yesterday. Now he was distracted. He scrolled up to see the other nudes. Hero had ambushed him with these, so he really only saw one before he forced his eyes away from his ex's naked body. Here he was masturbating all day and this is what he was missing out on. One apology could win her back, right? All he would have to do after that was spend a couple hours with his head between her legs and then whatever hard feelings she was harboring would melt away.

This was fucked up. He knew this was fucked up. She just drugged the woman he was sleeping with and got her fired. If he went crawling back to her, he was giving her exactly what she wanted. By doing this, he would be inviting her back into his life and into Julio's and Ricardo's lives by association. Didn't he owe them better? This all led him to one question. _Do I want to talk to her because I want her back or am I just horny?_ There was only one way to find out.

 _ **Peel me off this Velcro seat and get me moving**_  
 _ **I sure as hell can't do it by myself**_  
 _ **I'm feeling like a dog in heat**_  
 _ **Barred indoors from the summer street**_  
 _ **I locked the door to my own cell**_  
 _ **And I lost the key**_

 _ **Bite my lip and close my eyes**_  
 _ **Take me away to paradise**_  
 _ **I'm so damn bored, I'm going blind**_  
 _ **And I smell like shit**_

Drake tossed his phone to the side and stood. His cats got up with him. He opened his bedroom door and let them out because they would only hinder him from doing what he needed to do. After that, he locked the door and got back in bed. He reached over to his nightstand and opened the top drawer to retrieve some lotion and a box of tissues.

He was already only wearing his boxers because he's done this three other times today already. He took them off, then squirted some of the lotion on his hand and got to work. Hero could've done this for him, but Clem kind of fucked his day up and now here he was with his dick in his hand. Again.

 _ **I got no motivation**_  
 _ **Where is my motivation**_  
 _ **No time for motivation**_  
 _ **Smoking my inspiration**_

 _ **I sit around and watch the phone but no one's calling**_  
 _ **Call me pathetic, call me what you will**_  
 _ **My mother says to get a job**_  
 _ **But she don't like the one she's got**_  
 _ **When masturbation's lost its fun**_  
 _ **You're fucking lonely**_

Minutes passed and he still wasn't hard. He wasn't a huge fan of porn — not the kind with complete strangers anyway — and usually could get himself off by pure imagination alone, but this wasn't one of those times. _Fuck it_ , he thought. He picked up his phone, then went to his text messages. Dahlia's name was at the top since she had been the last to text him. He scrolled up in search of a picture he could work with and ended up choosing one that showed her full body. She was sitting completely unclothed with her knees bent and her legs spread. He had a clear view of her breasts and vagina and her clitoris was swollen, letting him know she'd masturbated before taking this photo. Her head was tilted back and her mouth was open as if she were in the middle of moaning with pleasure.

Drake leaned his phone against the lamp on his nightstand so that he was free to use both hands. He moved his pillow over slightly and rested his head on it to relax and get comfortable, then he went at it again.

 _ **Bite my lip and close my eyes**_  
 _ **Take me away to paradise**_  
 _ **I'm so damn bored, I'm going blind**_  
 _ **And loneliness has to suffice**_

 _ **Bite my lip and close my eyes**_  
 _ **Slipping away to paradise**_  
 _ **Some say quit or I'll go blind**_  
 _ **But it's just a myth**_

He was coated with sweat and his breath quivered. It definitely didn't take him long to get erect with the aid of the picture. He teased it for a while as he rocked his hips, then he moved his left hand down there and rubbed his perineum. Dahlia used to do that for him. While she sucked on him, she would play with his balls and taint and then push her finger inside of him. He did this, too, and started to massage his prostate. His breathing got deeper and faster and louder. Curses and sighs of pleasure slipped out under his breath.

He knew his orgasm was coming, so he stopped. He loved edging himself. He loved getting up to that moment before complete ecstasy and then holding off on the release. He gave himself some time to wind down before he started again. This time, he felt even more pleasure. He did this a third and forth time, but he knew that he couldn't go again. It felt beyond his control at this point. Now he went for it and gave it all he had. His right hand moved faster now and the finger on his left hand massaged his prostate quicker and with more pressure. His orgasm started, encouraging him to amp up the speed even more. He felt so much pleasure that a moan left him on an exhale. He looked over at that picture — at the look of pure bliss on Clementine's face. He felt it, too, like he was there with her.

He was feeling so good that he couldn't muster up the willpower to grab a tissue. Both of his hands were far too busy to stop what they were doing and spare a couple seconds. His cum shot out and landed on him. Finally, he could rest. He pulled his finger out and went for the tissue before the semen could drip down his skin and onto the mattress. After cleaning himself off, he dropped both arms by his side with exhaustion. He was drenched with sweat and his chest rose and fell with each pant. His head was swimming with oxytocin and endorphins.

Now that he was done, it brought him back to the question that had started his me-time. _Damn, I still wanna talk to her._

* * *

Drake froze when he thought he heard the bathroom door open. It was hard to be sure over the sound of the running water. Out of nowhere, fear prickled up his spine. His father was dead. He shouldn't be waiting for him to pull back the curtain and violate him, but he was. Moments later, he heard more running water, but this time, it was like urine hitting the toilet bowl.

"Hello?" he said warily. _Get it together, Drake. No one's trying to fucking get you._

"It's me." He didn't say his name, but it was clearly Julio's voice.

"What the fuck?" He turned off the water, then grabbed his towel off the curtain rod.

"I had to pee."

"Why didn't you go to the other bathroom?"

"This one was closer. You should've locked the door if you didn't want anyone to come in." He tucked himself back in and zipped his jeans, then flushed the toilet and moved over to the sink. "What did you eat for dinner? I'm starving."

"I haven't eaten yet."

"Good. Me neither. What are you making?"

It was close to nine o'clock and he was exhausted, so he didn't even bother to argue with the fact that he was getting stuck with cooking again. "What do you want? Something fast."

"We can just drop some chicken tenders and fries in the deep fryer."

Drake pushed the curtain back and stepped out of the tub, now wearing a towel around his waist. He went for his shirt and put it on. Even after all these years, he was still embarrassed about the scars on his torso. "Have fun getting laid?"

"Have fun jerking off all day?" Julio retorted as he turned off the sink. "I wasn't getting laid. I just went to see a friend."

Drake couldn't remember the last time Julio had went out with friends. Honestly, he wasn't even sure that he had any. "That's good," he said. "Was it that guy you used to hang out with when I moved in. What's his name? Rhett?"

"No, it wasn't him. That guy was a jackass."

Drake stepped into his boxers, then pulled them up underneath the towel. After he had them on, he removed the towel altogether and grabbed his pajama pants. He never really liked Rhett after running into him at the truck stop the night everything went down with Marcellas. Apparently, he's the one who had told Ricardo what he was out there doing on the streets. Julio still hung out with Rhett for a while after Drake moved in, but Rhett constantly made sly remarks about the boy's addiction and prostitution lifestyle. Drake always awkwardly laughed and went with it, but Julio knew it was fake, so one day, he brought it up with Rhett and it turned into a whole thing and they never spoke again.

"I mean, because if you did wanna hang out with him," Drake said, "that's cool. You don't have to pick your friends based on whether or not they like me."

"That guy is the last person I would ever wanna hang out with," Julio said.

The two young men made their way downstairs. After Drake tossed his towel and dirty clothes into the laundry room, he joined his friend in the kitchen. Julio had already plugged in the deep fryer, so he sat down on the bar-stool to wait for it to get hot.

"Ricardo texted earlier and said he won't be home tonight," Julio said. "Did he tell you?"

"No." Drake pulled his phone out of his pocket and sure enough, the man's name was on his screen. "Oh, I guess he did when I was in the shower." He set his phone down, then folded his arms on the counter-top and rested his head on them.

"You alright?" Julio asked.

"Yeah. Just exhausted. Today's just been one of those days where I couldn't get myself out of bed to do anything."

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"I had breakfast." Suddenly, he stood. "I need to smoke."

He disappeared outside and came back about ten minutes later, having smoked two cigarettes. Julio already had the pre-cooked chicken in the deep fryer and Drake's cats were circling his feet and rubbing up against his legs now that they smelled the food.

"Drake, get your fucking cats, bruh."

"Shit, I didn't feed them today."

He went over to the pantry and used the cup inside to scoop up some food. The animals came running when they heard the food hit their bowl. They sniffed around for a short moment before returning to Julio, who groaned.

When the chicken was done, the boy poured in some curly fries and dropped them into the bubbling grease. Drake grabbed one of his tenders and stuck it on ice in the freezer. Both boys liked to cook the fries extra long to make them crispy, so Drake pulled the chicken back out of the freezer before they were finished. He chopped it up into small pieces and tore a napkin in half to separate them, then he put them on the floor near the cats' food bowl.

"You keep giving them human food and they're gonna start refusing to eat their food altogether," Julio said as he grabbed the hot sauce out of the refrigerator.

"I know, but they're too cute to say no to."

"You want yours tossed?"

"Sure."

The young man put all the chicken strips in a Tupperware bowl and poured in the hot sauce, then he put a lid on it and shook it around. He already had the bottle of ranch sitting out, but Drake opened the fridge and grabbed honey mustard because he preferred to dip his spicy tenders in that.

Instead of moving to the living room, both boys just took a seat at the island. They took the first few bites in silence, but Julio was the first to speak.

"You got rehearsals tomorrow?" Julio asked.

"Yeah. Care if I use your car?" Now that Julio's license were suspended, Drake was able to drive himself to and from the theatre rather than being dropped off and picked up.

"I don't give a shit," he said. "You don't have to keep asking. It's not like I can drive it anywhere anyway."

"I know. I just don't want you to think I expect you to let me use it whenever I want just because you're not using it. It's still yours."

"Not anymore. Now it's yours, so stop asking," he said. "Until I'm allowed to drive again. Then it'll be mine."

"If you want me to come home on break and drop you off somewhere, I will."

"I don't know yet. I'll have to see how Hannah's feeling first."

Now was a good time to ask. "You still talk to her?"

"Well, kinda. I met up with her today, but I haven't spoken to her in a while. When I started drinking, things got kinda bad. Like..."

Drake remembered how hard it was to admit to himself all of the shit he had done to hurt people and it was even harder to say it out loud. "You don't have to tell me."

"But that's how people like us recover, right?"

 _People like us._ Julio had never said that before. He never wanted to believe that he could've gone to the same places that Drake had gone to. Maybe he wouldn't have. Who knows? What was important was that he knew he had a problem and Drake had a similar problem and he was glad that he didn't have to go through all these new feelings and emotions alone.

"Hannah and I got really close while you were in the hospital. That bracelet trick actually worked and I guess she also felt kinda bad for me," Julio said. "We weren't officially going out and we never slept together, but we somehow just clicked on this different level. I started spending every second with her whenever I wasn't at the hospital. I'd been drinking heavily for a while — like, since you moved out — but things started to really take off after your suicide attempt. It's just unfortunate that I fell in love with Hannah and alcohol at the same time."

Drake understood this. He fell in love with Meelah and Charlie at the same time and he often wondered if maybe things would've turned out differently had Charlie never been there at all. It was easy to think that of course it would have. It was easy to blame drugs as the reason that tore them apart, but if you're going to do that, then you also have to blame drugs as the reason that brought them together. Drake never would've opened up to Meelah about his dad. They never would've shared that same connection. The only real relationship he'd ever had where his girlfriend and Charlie didn't share the spot at number one was with Clementine and obviously, that didn't turn out too well. Without Charlie, he and Meelah probably never would've made it — not for long. He had always been so fucked up in his relationships and this stemmed from his issues with his dad. He'd never learned how to be a man and he didn't have anyone to look up to that could teach him how to make a relationship work.

Julio continued his story. "Me and Hannah started arguing a lot. I don't remember what it was about. Probably my drinking. I got...really angry. I think I was angry at you, but I was scared of what you'd do if I yelled at you, so I would get wasted and...I guess I took it out on her."

His voice was saturated with regret and it broke Drake's heart. He knew exactly what that felt like.

"This one day, I got really heated. I started throwing her shit and breaking everything. I think I really scared her. I grabbed this...like, fucking vase or something. I didn't know what it was at the time. She tried to take it from me...and then...I pushed her...like...really hard." Julio paused as if playing the memory over again in his mind. "Then I threw the vase and it just shattered and all this dust went everywhere and she started screaming about her sister. When we first started getting close, she told me her sister was kidnapped and murdered when they were little and the vase I broke was the fucking urn with her ashes in it."

"Shit," was all Drake could think of to say.

"I know, and I didn't even apologize or help her scoop it all back up. I just stood there while she cried and I kept yelling and I blamed it on her." Julio hadn't taken a bite of his food for a while now. His voice was somber. "When I learned about what your dad did to you, I hated him. I couldn't understand how he could possibly treat you the way he did, but then this thing happened with Hannah and I threatened to kill you and I beat you up until you lost consciousness. Like...and now I understand him and that scares me. You lied for him and protected him because you were scared of him...just like you lied and protected me. You were scared of me. I was scared of me."

Drake was quiet for a moment. This wasn't something he'd ever admitted out loud, but he didn't want his friend to feel alone. "I hit Meelah once," he said.

Julio was so shocked that he actually lifted his eyes and furrowed his brows at him.

"It was when we were still together. She'd just gotten clean and I stopped using for a second, but then I just couldn't do it, so I tried to keep it from her. One night, she caught me in her bathroom. I had just thrown up the pills, but they were still intact and I was so desperate, so I got them out of the toilet and swallowed them down again. That's when I realized that Meelah had been standing there watching the whole thing. We started arguing and I was so nauseous. The pills were slimy and putting them in my mouth after they'd been in the toilet grossed me out, so I puked them up again. She flushed them before I could give it a third try. I was so angry with her. I just kept yelling at her, you know? Like, what the fuck was I supposed to do now? Those were all I had." Despite the fact that he and Meelah had gotten back together months after this incident, he never could forgive himself for it like she had. "I blamed her. I told her that she was the reason I was a drug addict. She tried to leave and...I grabbed her...and I slung her against the wall...and I just remember yelling at her. She told me that I was acting like my dad and...I just fucking lost it. That's when I punched her. Just...full-on...punched her...right in the face."

"So that's why you two broke up?"

"Yeah," Drake said. "I was so embarrassed and ashamed about the whole thing, which is why I said she dumped me because she found out I relapsed. That was the main reason anyway." He looked at his friend. "When you hit me, it did scare me, but I knew where you were coming from. Even when you threatened to kill me, I understood. Back when I lived at my dad's, your brother showed up and took my Triple C's and I put a pair of scissors to his throat. I've been there, too. When you said that to me, I knew it came from a place of fear. That's why I covered for you. I thought I could help."

"I almost drank today," Julio admitted. "Obviously, my conversation with Hannah didn't go over well. She's still super pissed, which is understandable. She said a lot of hurtful shit." He was quick to add, "Which I totally deserved. Still, it got to me and I ended up at this bar and I just sat outside trying to talk myself out of it, then trying to talk myself back into it, then out of it again. I don't know how long I sat there, but finally I looked up nearby AA meetings and went to one. That's where I've been all this time. I kept thinking about how I've treated you these past couple months and about my brother crying next to my hospital bed and I finally got up and got some help."

"I'm proud of you," Drake said. "You're doing way better than I did. It took me years and, like, a hundred tries before I made it as long as you without a relapse."

Julio had only been clean for about a week and a half, but that was a long time to Drake. Once he started using, it probably took him about two years before he could stay clean for that long.

"I'm not Dahlia," Julio said. "Don't sell yourself short." He always called him out when he caught him putting himself down to lift others up.

"You're right. I'm doing fucking awesome, too." It felt good to say these words out loud and actually mean them. "We both are. We're gonna beat this."

Drake met his eyes when he said it. He started using Triple C's at sixteen and he was now twenty-two. That's six years of a habit he was trying to reverse. His addiction had taken him many dark places — places that he still hated to talk about. If he could get through all of that shit and come out on top, then Julio could, too. When Drake said they would beat this, Julio believed him.

The young man picked up his can of soda and held it up. "To sobriety."

Drake smiled. He hated that Julio was going through similar struggles, but he was glad that finally he didn't have to go through this alone. He mirrored his friend's movements and they tapped their drinks together. "To sobriety."

* * *

Dee plopped down next to Drake on the bleachers and held out a black bag of pistachios. The young man took it and poured some of the nuts onto his palm, then started cracking open the shell of one

"Another busy day for you, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," Drake replied sarcastically. Again, he was scheduled to watch the actors that he was understudying for. Once, he was asked to come up and run through one of the routines, but then he was sent back to the sidelines and the focus went back to the originally assigned Roger and Mimi.

Speaking of Mimi, Sal, who played her, looked over at Drake. Allie was talking to both her and Gregory, who played Roger, but when she wasn't looking, Sal made a funny face at Drake, who broke out in a smile.

"The fuck was that?" Dee asked when the girl went back to listening to the instructor.

Drake shrugged. "What?" He put his focus on cracking open another pistachio.

"You like her?"

"I mean, yeah, she's pretty cool."

"No, I mean, you're trying to get with her?"

"Oh. Oh, hell no. I just got out of two relationships that I should've never been in. I think I need to take a break and focus on myself for a minute."

"So hypothetically, if she asked me to ask if you wanted to get dinner and go see a movie with her tonight, I should tell her you're taking a break."

Drake's ears perked up. "Did she say that?" Being single just wasn't something he seemed to be capable of doing.

"No. No, she didn't, but you see? You're full of shit."

The young man rolled his eyes and hung his head, putting his attention back on the tough shell.

Dee laughed. "Look at that. You're actually disappointed."

"Fuck you, alright? Just because I'm single, it doesn't mean I can't fuck around." Drake's fist was full of empty shells and it made it hard to open new ones. "Bruh, where are you putting yours?"

Dee grabbed a plastic bottle of water that he had on the other side of him and set it down in between them. As his friend dropped his in, he said, "Man, I'm kinda feeling like shit today."

"Mentally or physically?" Drake asked casually.

The man laughed. "That is some Santos house shit right there. _'Mentally or physically?'_ "

An amused smile came up on the younger boy's face.

"Can y'all not go one fucking day without some catastrophic meltdown, followed by a forty-five minute counseling sesh and, like, three pep talks? Dayum!"

He laughed. "You think Ricky got you sick?"

"I don't know. I hope not."

"He bought that expensive medicine that knocks it out pretty well. There's some left at the house if you wanna try to catch it early."

"I think he works tonight, but I'll probably come over tomorrow."

Both were quiet for a minute as they watched the two actors run through their duet. Drake was first to break the silence.

"God, I need a fucking cigarette." He waited a few moments, but his craving got the best of him. He stood and tossed his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll be right back. If she asks, I'm in the bathroom. I'm just gonna run outside and take a couple hits."

Drake exited the large practice space and passed by a room where another director was working on vocals with the actor who played Mark. The young man dipped outside and leaned against the brick wall. He quickly lit up and took a drag and just this action alone made him feel less tense.

He heard his text alert go off and feared that it was Dee warning him that Allie was looking for him. It was pretty irrational to think this, but that's how afraid he was of her. She reminded him of the asshole band conductor in the movie _Whiplash_ that Sawyer gave him for his birthday. She hasn't tried to physically harm him yet, but after everything she's said to him, he wouldn't put it past her. Allie didn't treat anyone else this way — not that he's seen. Maybe she could just smell weakness when she was around him and knew that she could take advantage of his frail mind. Or maybe he sucked as bad as she said he did and he shouldn't have been cast in the first place.

Dee wasn't the person who was texting him and he should've felt relieved, but he didn't.

 **Dahlia Martin: why ru being such an arse? I just wanna tlk aboutsomething important.**

Drake was being an ass? Was she serious? Was she really trying to act like she didn't just drug Hero? He wanted to say something. He really wanted to blow up on her, but anytime he had done this in the past, he would always be the one to go crawling back to apologize in the end and he knew this time would be no different.

He received another message — this one actually from Dee this time — but as he went to press on it, Clementine sent another text and he paused to read it.

 **Dahlia Martin: I know ur fuckin reading my texts & I swear ur gonna regret it if u keep ignoring me**

What the fuck did that mean? That was definitely a threat, but would she actually go so far as to hurt him? Would she drug him like she had Hero? What would be the use of that? Perhaps she would poison him instead. No, no way. She'd never intentionally cause him harm...right? He knew what Julio thought about the time he'd overdosed on the muscle relaxers she'd given him, but he didn't believe she'd done it on purpose...but what if she did?

While Drake obsessed over her intentions, he forgot all about Dee's message until he heard the theatre door open and saw Allie.

"Shhhit!" he whispered to himself, rushing to put his cigarette out against the brick wall. He prematurely thought he'd achieved this, so when he went to close his hand around the butt, it burned him and he dropped it on the pavement.

The woman looked right first, but then she turned in his direction and scowled. She began stomping towards him and he knew that he was in trouble. He put his phone in his pocket and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"No, don't put your phone away on my account," she said as she approached. "I wouldn't wanna interrupt whatever shit you've got going on that must be more important than rehearsals."

"I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I had...a family emergency."

"I thought you didn't have a family." This was something she'd learned when he'd filled out an emergency contact form on the first day of practice.

"Um..." He was so taken aback by her rude words that he didn't know what to say.

"Was that your boyfriend on the phone?" She glanced at his feet and noticed the cigarette butt on the ground. "You came out here to put a cigarette in your mouth because you miss having his dick between your lips. Is that why you're ruining my fucking show, faggot?"

Her choice of words shocked him. He just stood there speechless. He could feel his heart beating faster.

"Are you deaf?!"

Finally, he mustered a reply. "No, ma'am."

"Are you sure? That would sure explain your singing. It's like you've never heard what it sounds like to stay in pitch."

"I just... I've-"

"If it's not that, then it must be because you're fucking retarded. Is that it?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but again, he was speechless.

"That's probably why your family abandoned you, you think?"

Drake's brows furrowed with confusion. This woman didn't even know him. Why did she hate him so much? Even Dahlia wasn't this harsh.

"Close your mouth, Drake. Do I look like your boyfriend's dick?" Allie actually expected an answer. "Well?"

"No, ma'am."

"Now you have two choices. You can either get your useless, tone-deaf fucking ass inside and pay attention or you can go the fuck back home, where nobody wants your untalented, faggot-lipped ass. So what's it gonna be? You coming back inside?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And don't you dare let me find you somewhere your dick-nosed, rectum-licking face isn't supposed to be. You understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Because if you ruin this play for me, I'll make sure everyone here knows who you really are." She smiled, like she was pleased with herself. "That's right, Drake. I know you liked to spend your nights playing with grandpa balls and your days beating up my step-daughter."

Suddenly, it clicked. She was Dahlia's step-mom. No wonder she hated him so much.

"I never hit-"

She held up her hand. "Uh, uh, uh. I don't wanna hear it. Lousy prick. If it were up to me, you never would've been part of this show."

Drake felt his eyes water over. He was standing in front of someone who had so much ammo on him and she could fucking well use it any time she liked. Basically, his life was in her hands.

"Please don't say anything," he said.

"We'll see." Allie shrugged. She was just as awful as her step-daughter. "Now get back in there and don't let me catch you stepping out of line again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Drake led the way back inside and took his original seat on the bleachers. He kept his head low as Allie walked past him and approached the two that she had been working with before.

"Shit, dude, I'm sorry," Dee said. "I was on my phone for two seconds and I looked up and she was gone."

"It's okay," the young man said quietly.

Dee watched him wipe his eyes and he saw the shiny tears on his skin when he pulled his hand away. "Bro, what'd she say to you?" he asked with urgent concern. He slid down to the next level lower on the bleachers so that he could be closer to Drake's level. "What'd she say?"

The boy sniffled and wiped away more tears. "I don't really wanna talk about it right now." He was trying really hard not to break down in front of everyone. So far, no one noticed him, but if he tried talking about the overwhelming conversation he'd just had this soon, he would lose his composure.

"Alright, don't worry about it," Dee comforted. "Lemme tell you about this god-awful joke Ricardo told me the other day."

* * *

"This is so fucked up," Dee said after Drake told him about Allie being Dahlia's step-mother.

They were at a park. Well, it was hardly a park. It was just a small grassy area with a pavilion and a couple picnic tables. Drake was sitting on top of one of the tables and smoking cigarette after cigarette while Dee poured some sort of lite vinaigrette dressing onto the salad he'd bought from some small organic restaurant the other boy had never been to before.

"She called me the f word."

"F word?" When he saw Drake's discomfort with saying it, he knew. "What, faggot?"

The boy nodded.

"Jesus."

"I don't even know what else she called me. It's like I blacked out after that or something. Like, I hardly remember it happening." This happened sometimes when he got scared. Maybe his brain was trying to prevent a PTSD flashback from taking over or maybe his mind was just all over the place to the point where he could never recall one thought specifically.

"Dude, I really think you should say something to the other directors. It's not right for her to treat you like that. Either they'll talk to her and she'll have to chill out or they'll fire her."

"I don't want her to lose her job. That would just give Clem another reason to be pissed at me."

"So? Who gives a fuck?"

"If I get her step-mom fired after she got Hero fired, she's gonna take that as a sign that I'm starting a war. The Hero thing was just her warm-up. Who knows what kinda shit she's got up her sleeve? She knows everything about me. She could ruin my life if she wanted to."

Dee sighed and watched as his friend took another nervous drag from his cigarette. Drake then leaned forwards and put his head in his hands.

"God, I'm so fucked," he said. "It feels like I'm waiting for a fucking bomb to go off. She's gonna do something and I don't know what it is, but it's gonna be so bad."

His friend considered bringing up the idea of a restraining order, but decided that was best left for Ricardo to discuss with him.

"I feel sick." Drake stood and walked towards some trees. He faced away from the man who was with him so he wouldn't have to see him hurl while he was eating.

Despite the short time the two had known each other, Drake had the weakest stomach out of everyone Dee knew. The most minor of inconveniences could have him on his knees in front of a toilet. Perhaps it was due to all the vomiting he'd done while using Triple C's. It just came so easy for him — almost as easy as crying. He'd never met anyone like Drake, but he'd also never met anyone who had went through the same life experiences Drake had.

Minutes later, the boy finished. He staggered back to the table weakly as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he said. He knew it was so gross having to eat next to someone who was throwing up.

"Do you feel better?"

"Not really."

He sat down on the picnic table's bench this time rather than on top of the table and he reached for his pack of cigarettes to kill the bad taste and his nerves. His vomiting seemed to have taken a lot out of him, Dee noticed. He rested his weight on his elbows and held up his head in his hands. His cigarette dangled loosely from his lips.

"You alright?"

"Today's been such a long day and we'll still have four more hours after we go back." After a moment, he added, "And I'm not even doing shit. I never auditioned to play Roger or be an understudy. It's like a whole extra thing, but like, nothing at the same time." Drake was quiet for a moment, then he straightened and lifted his head. "I don't know. Jesus. Lemme stop bitching." He took another drag from his cigarette, then he stood and started pacing, but not out of nervousness. He wanted to stretch his legs after having sat down for so long. "You wanna run some lines or something so I know what the fuck I'm doing in case I do have to step in and play Roger?"

"Yeah, let's do it. Which scene?"

Drake unzipped his bag and pulled out the script. He passed it to Dee so that he could read for anyone except Roger. "I don't...give a fuck." He shrugged. "Just pick a random page."

"Wanna see how much you got out of watching them practice the choreography for _What You Own_ earlier."

"Yeah, let's do that."

Dee took a quick bite of his salad and cleared his throat after swallowing it down, then he started.

* * *

Julio glanced out the window when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. It was Drake and he was home from rehearsals. Julio had spent his day doing absolutely nothing and now that Drake was home, he felt excited and happy, although he couldn't explain why. He wasn't normally like this. Maybe it's because he had wasted so much time hating him and it was just good to have him back. Not only were they on speaking terms again, but there were no hard feelings or anything like that coming in between their relationship anymore. After months of constant silence, bitterness and anger, the duo was back together and nothing would ever break them apart again.

Julio got up and bounced down the foyer stairs. He was halfway down when Drake came through the front door. "Best friend!" he exclaimed. Even when they were on good terms, Julio was never this excited to see him, or at least he was never this open about it, so this took Drake by surprise.

Although it was odd, he spoke with a genuine enthusiasm that matched Julio's. "Best friend!"

He dropped his bag on the floor when he saw that the boy was coming in for a hug. This also surprised him. Julio wasn't a hugger. Every now and then when Drake was crying, he'd hug him to give him comfort, but he'd never gone in for an embrace randomly like this. It was so strange that Ricardo, who had heard this exchange from the kitchen, came out to the foyer with furrowed brows and a travel mug in his hand.

"I've been waiting hours for you to get back home," Julio said.

Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer circled Drake's feet and pawed at his ankles jealously. They were used to getting attention first whenever the boy came through the door.

"Why? What's up?" he asked.

"'Cause I just wanna hang with you," Julio said.

They pulled apart and finally noticed Ricardo.

"Y'all are gay," the man said, then he went back into the kitchen to gather the rest of his things he'd need for work.

The two followed him. Drake went straight to the refrigerator for some water and a snack and Julio hopped up onto the counter next to where his brother was adding sugar to his coffee.

Drake knew that Ricardo was seconds away from asking how rehearsals had gone, so he started a conversation before his friend could because he didn't feeling like getting into it. "You haven't left yet? I thought you were supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago."

"I couldn't find my fucking keys. I've looked all over the place. Julio said I can take his car, so I was waiting for you to get back. Were you planning on going anywhere?"

"No." Drake tossed the keys down on the island as he made his way to an empty spot in front of the counter. "Can you hand me a bowl?"

Julio turned and opened the cabinet behind his head, then passed the dish to the boy. Drake lifted the tab to open the can of sliced pears. He drained out some of the juice, then poured the fruit into the bowl.

"Are you sure they're around the house somewhere?" Drake asked.

"I mean, they have to be. I had my keys the last time I drove home and they're not in the car. It's got my bar key on it and everything. I've got a spare in the office, but I don't wanna leave the key to my place of business just lying around for anyone to take."

"Me and Julio will try looking around for it while you're gone. Right?"

Julio sighed. "Why do you always volunteer me for shit?"

"Do you have anything better to do?"

"Well...no, but-"

"That would be a huge help. Thanks," Ricardo interrupted. "I've gotta run." He picked up Julio's car keys. He said the next thing quickly. "Alsoifyouwannacleanuparoundthehousethatwouldbemuchappreciatedkaythanksbye." He was gone before either could respond and blame him for the mess that he was really not giving them a choice to clean up.

"I don't know what he's talking about. This house is always clean," Julio said.

"Yeah, no thanks to you."

"Well, why would I clean when I know you two will do it if I don't?"

Drake rolled his eyes and picked up a pear slice with his fork, then took a bite. Julio sat there in silence for a few moments thinking about his brother's last words, then he hopped off the counter.

"I bet he destroyed the living room," he said to himself quietly as he exited the kitchen. Moments later, Drake heard him curse. "That motherfucker."

Drake made his way to the living room and found the couches pulled away from the wall with the footrests let out. The cushions were in the floor as well as the decorative throws and the coffee table was on the whole episode side of the room.

"Damn, good luck cleaning that," the young man said.

Julio scoffed. "You're helping!"

"I'm eating," he said defensively.

"Fine, I'll wait."

Drake groaned. "Let's just get it over with." He still carried his bowl and continued to eat his pears as he kicked the footrests down. He gave a half-assed attempt at scooting the couch back where it belonged with his legs, but he made little progress until Julio came over and did the work for him. When they finished, Drake plopped down on the couch as if he'd done a lot of the work.

Julio sat down, too. "You got plans for today?"

The young man shook his head. "Why? What'd you have in mind?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to get out and do something. I've been cooped up in the house forever, it feels like. I don't know how you ever did this."

"Ricky's got the car, though."

"Well, we can do something here, but like, outside. I still have my old skateboard in the garage."

Drake laughed as he recalled memories of Julio's skater boy days.

"Don't laugh. What the fuck?"

"No, I'm not," he said, but he still was, so he added, "I'm not laughing at you."

"You know what? Fuck you. At least I didn't go through that goth stage."

A suddenly serious Drake kicked his leg. "I've already told you. We _don't_ talk about that."

"What did it last, two weeks and then you cried because your mom wouldn't let you get your tongue pierced with Kenzly?"

"I didn't cry. I just locked myself in my room and blasted my emo ass music and pouted for, like...until dinner, then she made me sit at the table and it was seafood night and that was my favorite, so I forgot about being mad." There was a moment of silence as he took another bite of his pears and swallowed it down. "I should've gotten a tongue ring. I think I could've charged more when I was on the streets with one."

"Does it feel better or something?" Julio asked curiously. "I've never been with a girl who had a tongue ring."

"I mean, it depends on whether or not they know how to use it. This one girl I brought home before I met Clementine had one and it wasn't great. The ball was kinda big, so she didn't have a lot of her tongue, like...on me, but then she took it out and it was amazing."

"You seriously made her stop and take out her tongue ring for you?"

"I mean, I asked nicely."

Julio chuckled. "You're such a dick."

"Well, if it were me and I was, like...not performing well, then I'd want someone to tell me what I need to do to get better so I don't embarrass myself."

Julio was still laughing at him.

"You probably wouldn't understand anyway. What was your motto back then? _'If we didn't both pay for dinner, we don't both need to cum.'_ At least I'm not a jackass. Now that girl's probably out there giving guys the best blowjobs of their lives."

"You done?" Julio asked when he saw Drake set his bowl down. "Let's go skate."

Drake carried the dish to the sink and followed his friend out the garage door. They never parked their cars here because it was still full of their old band equipment. After Julio found his board, he pressed a button to roll up the large metal door and they went out to the driveway. The young man got on the skateboard and started going around in circles while Drake sat down on the hood of Ricardo's car and lit a cigarette.

"So she was the best blowjob you've ever had?" Julio said, continuing the conversation.

"She was definitely up there."

"You just had to choose Dahlia over great-blowjob-girl."

"I know. Now I have no fiancée and no five-star blowjobs. Fuck my life."

Suddenly, Julio looked past him and waved innocently. "Hi, Mrs. Tarby."

Shit! Drake turned and, sure enough, there stood their neighbor. She was grouchy and very anal about her yard and always seemed so displeased to have three young men living in the house next door. She was giving Drake the stink eye because of his vulgar language and he crumbled under the pressure.

"Sorry, ma'am."

Mrs. Tarby still looked dissatisfied. She got in her car and started it.

Julio skated down to the end of the driveway and, when he came back, he asked, "How many girls have you been with that had tongue rings?"

Now that their neighbor was gone, he said, "Not that many. Maybe four or five and then one guy — that guy that lives with Tad."

Julio knew about him and he knew about the threesomes, but hearing Drake say this still took him by surprise. Tad had actually paid to watch some guy go down on the boy he said he was in love with.

"Only two of them were actually good though," Drake continued, "and that was Kenzly and that guy Kyle. They knew how to use the tongue ring to make things better. I mean, but Kenzly wasn't always good. We used to practice new things on each other and after she got her tongue ring, she wanted to learn how to use it to her advantage."

"That is so fucking weird."

"How?"

"So you two would just be hanging out and she'd ask if she could practice and you would just say _'sure'_ and whip out your dick?"

"Yeah, and then I would tell her what feels good and what she should try and she would do the same for me when I wanted to get better at something. That's not weird. You're supposed to communicate."

"I don't know," Julio said. "That just sounds kinda weird to me. Like, you weren't even doing it for each other? You were doing it so you can go out and pleasure other people?"

"I mean, it was a mixture of both," Drake said. "Sometimes we'd fuck just to fuck." He shrugged. "We were best friends and it was much easier to get together when we were horny than to go through the whole process of being charming and buying someone dinner and listening to them tell you about themselves and hoping they'd wanna come back home with you so you didn't just waste all your time."

"That's what Tinder's for, bruh."

Drake shrugged, then stayed silent as he watched his friend recall the movements required to land a kickflip. Minutes passed before either one spoke again.

"Goddamnit," Julio said when the board landed upside-down on the concrete. He stumbled, then caught himself before falling.

"You have to flip the board, like, all the way."

The boy gave him a dead stare. "No shit, Sherlock."

A defensive look flashed across Drake's face. "Well, excuse the hell out of me."

"You do it."

"Nah, I was never as good as you."

Julio picked up the board and passed it to his friend anyway, shoving it against his chest.

"Alright, fuck. Hold this." He handed his friend his cigarette and Julio responded by tossing it on the ground. "Bro, what the fuck?!"

"It was literally finished."

"Yeah, but Ricardo's gonna get mad if I get cigarette butts all over the yard again."

"You can pick it up when we go back inside."

Drake sighed and shook his head, then put the board down on its wheels.

"You think Mr. Tarby's wife has ever given him a blowjob?"

"I don't know, dude. Shut up. You're distracting me." He got on top of the skateboard and balanced there as if to get used to being on one again.

"As if you'll even land it."

Drake narrowed his eyes, then said. "Bet I can land it my first try."

"Bullshit."

"For real."

"You willing to solidify this bet?"

"What do you have in mind?"

Julio thought for a moment. "Loser has to do all of the other person's chores for the week: cooking, dishes, laundry — everything."

"Alright, you're on."

"Let's see it." Julio waved for him to go on.

Drake set his feet up for the trick, then he went for it. He pressed down on the back of the board with his left foot and got it off the ground, then he slid the toes of his right shoe against the side on the opposite end and sent it into a flip. Less than a second later, the skateboard did a complete flip, so he put one foot on the back, then one on the front just as the wheels made contact with the ground. He looked up with a smirk and, just to be even more of a jackass, he dabbed. Julio hated dabbing and Drake thought it was pretty dumb, too, but he liked to do it sometimes just to pissed his friend off.

"How the... You were never even that good!"

"Ugh, gee, thanks." He got off the board and put his weight on the back to send it vertical, then he grabbed the nose and passed it over. "Have fun with those chores." He sat back down on the hood of the car and went for another cigarette.

"You _knew_ you were gonna land that."

"Well...kinda." He shrugged smugly.

"How?"

"When I went to Theo's the other day, he pulled out his skateboards and I practiced the kickflip until I perfected it."

"That's cheating."

"How is that cheating? How was I supposed to know that you'd make this bet? You act like I spent everyday since I perfected the trick sending you subliminal messages about skateboarding — like I purposely sent that random skateboard emoji in one of my texts or like I purposely sent that video of that little kid landing that dope trick or like I purposely turned on _Viva La Bam_ when we sat down to watch tv or like I purposely just mentioned skateboarding in casual conversations. You think I actually _knew_ you'd eventually wanna skate and that you'd wanna make a bet involving chores because you're competitive as hell and have no cash to bet? You think I would actually set it all up so when Ricky reminded me about adding my shit to the grocery list, I wrote down shit for the meals that I like but never cook because it takes so long? You think I've purposely been cooking all the easy shit and saving the timely stuff for when you lost this bet? You really think I planned all that? Come on, Julio. I'm not _that_ smart."

Julio was dumbfounded. "You're a fucking sociopath."

Drake grinned.

"Seriously, you're worse than Dahlia."

"Well, now you're just hurting my feelings."

"You literally plotted this for days and sat back and watched it happen. You don't hear how fucked up that is?"

"It's not that bad," Drake said. "My sister did that shit to me my entire life."

"No wonder you're so fucked up."

The young man scoffed. "Well!"

"You're going to hell, dude." Julio got back on the skateboard.

For roughly thirty minutes, they continued taking turns on the skateboard and talking about random shit. They tried other easier tricks they used to do like a heelflip and a pop shove-it. Julio felt better when he was able to land them in less tries than it took Drake. As Drake rolled down to the end of the driveway, Julio wandered into the garage and sat down in the stool behind his drum set. He picked up the sticks he had laying nearby and hit each drum and cymbal a couple times just to see how they sounded having collected dust for so long. It was his kit, but Stevie was the one who always played them. Julio was bass and back-up vocals and Drake was guitar and lead vocals. He missed those days when it was just the three of them hanging out. They all had a deep love for music and could play for hours. Sometimes Ricardo would come out to listen while he smoked out of a bong and passed it around. They would all get stoned and laugh and play. Things used to be so great.

Around the beginning of senior year, Drake started showing up high and it wasn't on marijuana. His vocals got lazy and he was sloppy when he fingered the chords. It was beyond aggravating and both himself and Stevie had blamed Meelah. It was years later before Julio learned that it was around this time when Mr. Parker had sexually assaulted Drake for the first time. Julio couldn't even begin to imagine what that must've been like for him and his so-called friends only made things worse by scolding him for showing up high. The boy later started missing band practices. This wasn't exactly a new phenomenon, but it wasn't incredibly frequent either until then. However, when summer break began, Drake had completely stopped coming and instead of figuring out what the root of the problem was, a frustrated Julio and a spiteful Stevie started looking for his replacement. That's when they found Stavros. At this time in his life, Mr. and Mrs. Nichols pawned Drake off on his father, the physical abuse became more violent and frequent, the sexual abuse was still pretty new, Drake was still trying to cope with the weekly private visits he'd had with Coach Tad in his office and Meelah dumped him. On top of that, his best friends kicked him out of the band. Charlie was the only one who had stuck around, so it was no wonder that the boy had learned to rely on the pills so heavily.

When Drake got out of the hospital after killing his dad out of self-defense, Julio expressed his guilt for being so quick to judge and kick him to the curb. As a matter of fact, he'd cried and that was the first time he'd cried in front of Drake. His friend made him feel a lot better, though, and he told him that he didn't blame him for anything. Eventually, Julio was able to forgive himself, but he sometimes still thought back on it.

Stevie, on the other hand, was never told the full truth. They told Stevie that there had been a break-in and that Martin had been killed and Drake severely wounded in an attack when the burglars realized the two were home. Of course, it was a big story — every news reporters' wet dream — and although Drake's name was never mentioned, people started putting two and two together, so the truth eventually found Stevie via an ex girlfriend. He wasn't happy to learn that his best friends had lied to him, but he didn't hold it against him too much.

The real reason that friendship failed was because Stevie got tired of Drake calling and asking for things, such as cash or a ride or a bed to sleep in. He constantly asked, but could never return the favor when Stevie needed it. The real kicker that made Stevie draw the line was when Drake stole two hundred dollars from him. It was some time after Meelah had passed away. Drake had stayed in a constant high state after that until, ultimately, he attempted suicide. He survived, of course, and immediately got back on drugs, then got kicked out and ended up at his dad's. Stevie stopped answering his calls because he always needed something from him. It wasn't long after that he ended up having to move out of state and Drake didn't even know about it until he'd moved in to the Santos house. Since he was sober and his mind was cleared up, he got upset when he discovered that Stevie hated him and it hurt his feelings, although he understood that he acted like a total piece of shit when he was using.

Drake approached the garage after one last trick and got off the board. "What are you doing?"

"Let's play," Julio said.

"What, like now?"

"Yes, dumbass."

"I've gotta get my guitar."

He disappeared inside and when he came back, he had his guitar and two bottles of water. He passed one to his friend, who thanked him and gulped some down. It was hot outside and both were sweating.

Drake plugged his electric guitar into the amplifier and played a couple notes to see how it sounded. He'd stopped playing after the live performance at Flux when everyone started urging him to take Triple C's. That was about five months ago. It was crazy when he thought about it. As a teen, he would never let a day go by without playing.

The two began running through old songs they used to perform, but with Julio on drums rather than bass this time. The sun was setting outside before they called it quits and headed back inside. Both were too tired and hot and impatient to cook, so Julio called and ordered a pizza, then they both showered. Drake took longer because it took him a few minutes to find a playlist that he was in the mood to listen to. When he got out of Ricardo's bathroom and headed down the hall, he noticed that his friend was already out. The young man went down the stairs and into the laundry room to get rid of the clothes he had taken off and his towel. It was around this time that the doorbell rang, but Julio beat him to it and passed the delivery boy the cash Drake had laid on the counter for the pizza. They poured themselves some soda and Julio got the bottle of ranch out of the refrigerator and they sat down on the couch and watched _Malcolm In The Middle_ and talked while they ate.

* * *

Drake's eyes opened wide and he gasped for air. He reached up and touched his neck, but found it to be free from Martin's grasp. It's been about three and a half years since his father's death, yet it still haunted him. After all this time, he was still scared of his dad more than anyone or anything else.

He was still half-asleep, so he had irrational thoughts. He felt trapped and, if Martin was about to come out of the darkness, his bed was the last place he wanted to be. The young man got onto his feet quickly because it's easiest to get away whilst in a standing position. He bolted towards the door and opened it and, once he did, he ran smack into a tall, muscular figure. Drake screamed.

"Hey, you okay?" Ricardo put his hands on the boy's biceps and stepped back to get a better look at him. His own face expressed concern and confusion.

"Yeah," Drake said, suddenly embarrassed.

"Did I wake you?"

"No." It must be about five, he assumed, since Ricardo's just getting home from work.

"You had a nightmare?"

"I'm okay."

Ricky could tell now that he was embarrassed, so he pulled his hands away so that Drake wouldn't feel like he was being babied.

"I'm just gonna smoke."

"Okay. You know my door's always open."

"I know."

The man let him go and watched as he descended the staircase. Drake went outside and immediately reached for the pack of cigarettes and lighter he had sitting on the porch. He lit up, then plopped down in one of the rocking chairs, replaying the dream in his head. He never forgot what it felt like to have his father's hands around his neck — to have someone hate him enough to squeeze tighter and tighter and watch him suffer through the pain that strangulation brought with it. That was the ultimate power — having the ability to decide if someone lived or died...watching the life leave the victim's eyes. Playing god — that's what Martin got off on. He always loved to choke his son. He got off on letting Drake know that he could kill him at any time and there was nothing the weak boy could do about it. He got off on the pale, blue color of Drake's face and he got off when he saw fear and desperation in his watery, pleading eyes. He got off when his kid had to beg for his life. He had complete control over Drake's life. He got to decide when he lived or died. He could kill him with his bare hands if he wanted to and the boy couldn't do anything about it.

Drake sniffled, then wiped his eye before a tear could fall. He was so tired of fucking crying.

* * *

When Dee came over later that day, he was full-blown sick. Ricardo sent him upstairs and gave him some medicine, then heated up some soup. Julio had spent his morning playing video games in the living room, but he was getting tired, so he turned the console off and joined his brother in the kitchen.

"Drake's still sleeping?" he asked with surprise when he saw that it was a little after lunch time.

"Probably. He was up when I got in this morning," Ricardo said. "I think he had another nightmare."

"I'm so bored. I'm gonna wake his lazy ass up."

He headed upstairs and to Drake's room. He pushed open the door and was surprised to see his friend's eyes open. Drake didn't even acknowledge him. He was laying on his side with his dead eyes glued to the wall as if maybe there was a tv on it that was playing reruns of past traumas. This could mean two things. Either he was back on drugs or he was overwhelmingly sad to the point where he would kill himself if he managed to muster up the strength to get out of bed. His eyes expressed a strong melancholy rather than the placidity Charlie made him feel, which meant that he wasn't using.

Drake occasionally went through these phases where he could spend all day in bed for days or weeks at a time. Sometimes it can go on for months. He would just lay there thinking and crying until he was too weak to move. The only time he got out of bed was to go to the bathroom and maybe to smoke. After that, he might grab something quick to eat before going back to bed. If he didn't, then one of the Santos brothers would have to practically force-feed him. He wouldn't shower, he wouldn't pick up his phone, he wouldn't watch tv, he wouldn't do anything. He'd only lay there day in and day out.

"Hey, you okay?" Julio asked with sudden concern.

Drake's voice came out quietly and it was so monotonous that it unnerved his friend. "I don't know." He didn't want to say he wasn't okay because he hated feeling like such a nuisance, but he also didn't want to risk Julio leaving by saying he was fine.

The young man came in and shut the door. He saw the two kitties napping together by the window, so he picked them up, then set them down on the boy. Confused, Macaulay and Agent Jack Bauer looked around, then licked their own fur as if being touched had made them dirty. After a moment, they found a better, more comfortable spot than where Julio had placed them. They snuggled together right at Drake's chest, hiding their heads underneath the comforter.

When Julio sat down in front of him and leaned his back against the wall, he looked down at the boy and saw a silent tear drip across the side of his face. Either he felt appreciative for this sentiment and couldn't muster the energy to express it, which in turn filled him with guilt and a whole bunch of other negative emotions or he was touched that his cats loved him so much despite how much of a fuck-up he was.

"You wanna talk about anything?"

Drake's voice was so quiet that it was almost impossible to hear. "I'm sad." He had so many thoughts going on in his head and there was so much that led up to him feeling this emotion that he couldn't even really explain it if he tried.

"I know."

Julio started to run his finger's through his friend's hair to offer comfort and Drake scooted his head closer to hide his face against the young man's leg. His crying got harder.

* * *

Drake fell asleep after a while, so Julio snuck downstairs to start on dinner. He chose beef and broccoli stir-fry with lo mein noodles and spring rolls. He thought maybe this could help to cheer his friend up because it was something he loved, but never ate due to the length of time it took to cook. It was almost done when Ricardo came downstairs.

"Damn, it smells good! I could smell it from my room and my door was closed."

"How's Dee feeling?"

"The fever's gone and the nose spray helped, but he still feels congested and his head hurts. He's been napping on and off. Drake's still sleeping?"

"He was awake when I went up there, but he went to sleep again. He's in that mood again where he lays in bed for days."

"Oh. Shit." Ricardo frowned. "Is it bad?"

"It looks pretty bad."

"Damn." He looked as though he was searching his brain for a solution although he could never think of one. He usually stuck by the boy's side and made sure he didn't allow him to start feeling alone, but it looked like Julio had it covered this time. "It's been a while since he's been like this."

"I guess — between living on the streets, moving in with Dahlia, getting admitted to the hospital and then the mental hospital, relapsing again, getting involved in the play, having me be a complete dick to him, having to be strong while I was hospitalized and going through alcohol withdrawals, and then getting dumped by Hero — he's been too busy. Now he's got downtime and I think it's all catching up to him."

It made since that Drake was addicted to crazy. Without it, he had too much time to think.

"I've been sitting with him until he fell asleep," Julio continued. "I'm gonna try to snap him out of it and distract him. He cried for a long time, but a think getting it all out helped some. Alright, food's done."

The two made their plates and also the plates of the guys who were feeling down and under the weather. Ricky took his tray up to Dee and Julio cleaned up before making his way back to Drake's room. When he got there, he found the bed to be empty. Like completely empty. There was no comforter or anything. Instead, there was a giant blanket fort off to the side that was made of chairs and blankets from the hall closet and even the comforter off of Julio's bed.

"You gonna tell me the password for this thing or what?"

Suddenly, Drake's hand appeared and he pulled back one of the blankets, which acted as a makeshift door. Julio set the food down and crawled inside, then picked the tray back up and brought it in with him. His friend let the blanket fall back into place, which shut a lot of the light out. Still, they could see adequately. Julio looked around at all the different colors surrounding him. Drake had a pretty nice setup. He had a thick comforter laid out as a palette and he brought his pillows and his cats. He mostly used chairs and his bed to hold up the walls, but his fan was sitting off to the side and holding up a corner of the fort and blowing cool air in.

"Here." Julio held out one of the plates.

Drake hesitated before he lazily sat up as if he was debating whether or not he wanted to move. He knew it was best to just do what his friend wanted because Julio would make sure he ate one way or another. "Thanks," came out quietly.

"What gave you the idea to do this?"

This wasn't new. Sometimes when he was in a really low mood or when he was going through a comedown, he liked to hide away from the world. It was like a safe space where nothing bad was happening. He was seven years old again and just beyond the makeshift door was his old room and his mom and his dad and his newborn sister. There were no struggles and no responsibilities. No guilt or shame. It was before the abuse and the rape and the drugs and the prostitution. It was when things were much simpler. Drake really needed simple right now.

The boy shrugged.

"Does it taste okay?" Julio asked after he took a bite.

"Yeah, it's great." He was still quiet.

Not surprisingly, the kittens started hounding the two for food, so Drake bit off small pieces and gave them some as he ate. They both sat in silence for most of dinner, but finally, the depressed young man spoke again.

"Thanks for today." There was still no life in his voice. "I know it doesn't really seem like it, but it helped. I do feel better."

"I'm glad."

Drake kept his head low as he continued to eat. Julio watched him bite off another small chunk and suck off the spicy seasoning before setting it off to the side, where he had a little pile that Agent Jack Bauer and Macaulay were eating from. After a moment, Julio's eyes moved around the fort again, examining the use of blankets and chairs.

"This one's definitely roomier than the others you've made. Looks pretty solid, too, as long as your cats don't start climbing on it. You gonna let me sleep in here?"

"Sure."

They both already knew the answer before the question was even asked because Drake had brought enough pillows for the both of them. He wanted the company, but was too embarrassed to ask for it

"Dope. I can bring my laptop and we can watch movies and eat popcorn and junk food."

His friend didn't respond, but Julio could tell that Drake was looking forward to this.

* * *

Ricardo's brows furrowed and his lips curled upwards with amusement when he saw the blanket fort. It was lunch time and he hadn't heard either of the boys and now he understood why. They had stayed up all night. Peering into the fort, he saw Julio's laptop off to the side. It was stuck on the menu screen for Rush Hour 2. Surrounding the guys, there were stray popcorn and Little Debbie cake wrappers and a half-eaten bag of baby carrots, the entire bottle of ranch and glass bottles empty of the cream soda that was once in them. The kittens were asleep, too, and one — Ricardo could never tell the difference — was even curled up underneath his brother's neck. The man found this comical because Julio never really got attached to the cats and found them to be quite annoying.

He decided that this was too good to pass up, so he pulled out his phone and took a couple pictures so that he could tease Julio later. He knew Drake wouldn't care, but the younger boy would be pissed. Ricardo laughed quietly to himself as he predicted his little bro's reaction. This was actually kind of nice. They used to do shit like this to each other all the time before shit hit the fan with Drake's two-month relapse. After that, everyone got so serious and stressed and emotional.

After he got a few pictures, he went back to his own room. Dee looked on curiously when he heard his boyfriend laugh.

"Babe, look at this." Ricardo hopped into bed next to him like a five-year-old excitedly waking up his parents on Christmas, then he held out the phone.

Dee laughed, too. "They built a fucking blanket fort?"

"I know! Assholes didn't even invite us."

"How rude."

"Wanna go fuck 'em up?"

The man lifted his brow with interest. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

Ricardo held his breath as he hunched over Drake. He carefully petted Macaulay's head to wake her, then he scooped her up gently so that he didn't disturb the boy's slumber. He passed the cat over to Dee, who put her down in the hallway with the other animal and shut the door silently. Lastly, Ricky picked up his brother's laptop and moved it out of the way, then he joined his boyfriend.

"Ready?" he mouthed.

Dee passed him his super-soaker water gun and they both took aim.

His lips silently formed the words, "On three. One... Two... Three!"

In seconds, screams erupted from the bedroom, followed by hysterical laughter.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Julio screeched. "STOP IT! FUCKING ASSHOLES!"

They had put the water in a bowl of ice and set it in the freezer for a few minutes, so it was freezing cold. Drake's teeth were chattering already due to how sensitive he was to extreme temperatures. He lost both his voice and his breath at the shock of being woken up so suddenly. His first thought was danger, like maybe the last three and a half years had been a dream and he was actually still at his dad's, but his mind started to clear up when Julio held up a blanket to shield them from the water. It was soon snatched away and the couple went at the younger two until their guns were empty. Julio jumped up furiously and Ricardo and Dee bolted out the door and down the hall. When Drake was left alone, he just groaned, rolled over and closed his eyes again, but he knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep.

* * *

Drake was outside and sitting on the porch steps since there was no protection from the sun and it was warm. He was wearing a sweater and smoking a cigarette. He'd changed clothes, but his hair was still damp. Dee was back in bed and Julio was God knows where, probably still ranting and raving.

Ricardo opened the front door and joined his friend. "You alright?"

Despite how funny it was at the time, the man had a big heart and an even bigger conscience. Fucking with his little bro was light-hearted fun and even messing with Drake was fun, but Drake was more sensitive to certain things, like being woken up suddenly.

"Yeah," the boy said.

"I probably shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay." His voice was still dead inside like it was yesterday, but he meant what he said. "It was funny. Comedian of the year."

Ricardo couldn't help but grin. He sat down next to his friend. "You know you guys left the garage door open yesterday? Someone could've stolen all your old band shit."

"Sorry, I guess we forgot."

"You played?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. It's been a while."

"He talked me into playing with him at Flux again. He's gonna talk to the owner today."

"Is that a good idea?"

Drake hesitated. "I don't know."

"I just don't want anything to happen like last time. Plus, there's gonna be alcohol there."

"I think we'll be okay. I mean, we've got each other if anything happens. Julio said he overheard people talking about feeling bad for trying to push me into using last time, which is pretty embarrassing, so I hope that crowd doesn't show up, but if they do, maybe they won't do it again. I doubt they'll come, though, now that I'm sober and boring. It was never about the music to them."

"Well, fuck 'em. Now you can restart and get a new fan-base that doesn't know about all of that shit, then it'll only be about the music," Ricardo said. "I'm glad you two are getting back into playing. This will help you warm up to getting back onstage before the play."

The second he said that, Ricardo could immediately tell that something was off. Drake went silent and hung his head to keep his eyes hidden, then he took a drag on his cigarette and held it so that he wouldn't have to speak.

"Right?" the man asked.

He couldn't hide it from him forever, so he quietly said, "I'm quitting the play."

"What?"

He couldn't handle hearing the disappointment in Ricky's voice. "You said if it got to the point where I can't handle it, then I should drop out, so that's what I'm doing."

"Are you sure you can't handle it? Or is this one of those times where you don't wanna put in the effort to handle it?"

"I can't handle it."

Ricardo trusted his judgement and spoke without disappointment now. "Okay. You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay. Well, I'm glad you gave it a shot, though, and put yourself out there and that you know when to walk away before things get bad."

The front door opened then and Julio stepped out. "What the fuck is this?!"

Both boys turned towards him and saw him holding out his phone. On the screen was one of the pictures of him and Drake sleeping in the blanket fort, which was posted to Facebook. Ricardo broke into a grin and even Drake cracked a small smile.

"That's cute," Drake said, taking the phone. "Look at my cute babies. Agent Jack Bauer loves you, Julio, look." He zoomed in on the kitten curled up against the boy and showed him.

Julio snatched his phone away. "Delete it!"

Ricardo stood. "Don't you remember embarrassing me at the store when we were looking at shoes and you loudly accused me of stealing?"

Drake quietly chuckled at this. He's been the victim of this prank a few times, too. Julio loved doing this ever since he saw some guy on Vine embarrass the hell out of people this way.

"I told you I was gonna get you back. Consider us even." After this, he headed inside and went upstairs.

"Drake okay?" Dee asked when his boyfriend entered the bedroom.

"Yeah, and Julio saw the picture."

"I figured. I heard him start cussing all the way down the hall and he burst in here looking for you."

The man laughed.

"You think he'll retaliate?"

"Oh, for sure. It's just this ongoing thing we all do to each other to entertain ourselves."

"It must be fun to have a brother."

"Eh, it's aiight."

The two chuckled.

"How you feeling?"

"Definitely better than I was, but still not great."

Ricardo glanced at the clock. "It's time for you to take two more of those pills. Have you taken them yet?" When his boyfriend shook his head, he reached over and grabbed the box, then tore along the perforated lines to pull off two pills. He struggled to tear away the paper on the back for a moment, but finally got it and handed them to Dee, who tossed them into his mouth and chased them down with water. "You don't have work or rehearsals tomorrow either, right?" After the man shook his head, he said, "That's good. You'll have another day to rest." He started running his fingers up and down the man's bicep gently and the tone of the conversation got more serious. "Did you know Drake's quitting the play?"

"What?"

"He just told me outside. He said it was starting to affect him. I never watched the _Rent Live_ DVD and I don't really remember the actual movie that well. Are the drug scenes, like, pretty intense? Besides a couple incidents, I thought he was really enjoying it."

"I mean, I don't think it's that bad. There's a part where Mimi's looking around Roger's apartment for the drugs she dropped, which he wouldn't have to deal with unless he did end up having to fill in as Roger, but still, it's more of a flirty song. There's a song where a group of addicts approach a dealer asking for a fix and he plays one of them, but like, I don't think it would be enough to trigger anything," he said. "But I don't know. I don't know how sensitive he is to that kinda thing."

These didn't sound too bad, but really, you never knew with Drake. Anything could send his mind spiraling out of control.

"You know what I think it is," Dee started, "is that Allie — the director, you know? — he found out she's Dahlia's step-mom."

"What?!"

"She said a bunch of nasty shit to him and made it sound like she's considering exposing him — like she's toying with him."

"She needs to be fucking fired," he said angrily.

"That's what I said, but he's scared of how Dahlia will retaliate if he speaks up."

Ricardo contemplated this for a moment. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I mean, she does have a lot of shit on him, but she's always gonna have that shit. She's not gonna stop fucking things up for him just because he quits the play. She's after him and she won't quit until she gets what she wants."

The man sighed. "She is literally the worst person I've ever met." He thought about the situation some more. "Do you think he's making the wrong choice by not talking to her? Maybe if he did, they could sort this out."

"I don't know. I...I mean, I don't know the situation as well as you do, but what she wants is to get back together with him, right? I don't think she'll be satisfied until that happens."

"So either he quits the play to keep the peace as much as possible or he gets her step-mom fired and shows her that she doesn't control him anymore." Ricardo debated this in his head. "Either way, like you said, she won't stop, so he might as well stand up for himself in the process, right?"

"That's what I would do, but I don't know how easy it'll be to convince him that it's best."

"Yeah, that's gonna be a whole thing. I'll figure something out, I guess, and talk to him later." Ricky repositioned his pillow, then laid down next to his partner. "You wanna watch tv?"

"Yeah."

He reached over and grabbed the remote, then turned on the television. Dee rested his head on his boyfriend's arm, so once Ricardo found a channel, he pulled the sick man closer until Dee's head was on his chest.

* * *

Dee had left a bit earlier to rest up before getting up early for rehearsals in the morning and Ricardo was just getting back from dropping Julio off at Stavros' house. Stavros was the guy he and Stevie had replaced Drake with when he stopped showing up for band practices, but not much came of it since Stavros had to leave due to his grandma's death and Julio lost interest in music and fell into a depression. However, he filled in on drums the last time Drake and Julio performed at Flux and he was happy to do it again.

It was getting dark, but his brother said Stavros would drive him home, so Ricardo had the rest of the night to relax. The first thing he did was head upstairs to change into his pajamas. After that, he headed down the hall to see what Drake was up to. He heard muffled music on the other side of the door and opened it quietly.

 _ **-out oxytocin**_  
 _ **Love is an ocean I can't control**_

Drake was sitting on the floor on the other side of his bed. He sat facing the open window like he was watching nightfall. He didn't notice the man enter because his back was to him. He continued to quietly sing while strumming his acoustic guitar.

 _ **Break up with my girl because she doesn't trust me**_  
 _ **I don't fuckin' blame her 'cause I trust in nothing**_  
 _ **Mama held a bottle, daddy doesn't hug me**_  
 _ **All I ever wanted was someone to love me**_

 _ **Thanks doctor I need those**_  
 _ **Give me a free dose**_  
 _ **I took a thousand happy pills but I'm still emo**_  
 _ **Actin' like I ain't affected by the hate directed every second**_  
 _ **Maybe I should fuckin' end it now**_

Ricardo frowned as he leaned against the door-frame. He was glad that Drake was using music as an outlet again, but the lyrics were unsettling. His friend had been so strong over the past few weeks after his relapse and during Julio's withdrawals, but it was all just an act — not because he was back to lying and hiding, but because he wanted to be there for his best friend and make sobriety look like it wasn't so bad.

Everything finally caught up with him, though, and it was like all the emotions he'd suppressed the past few weeks were surfacing all at once and that was crippling.

 _ **Where are you goin'**_  
 _ **My serotonin**_  
 _ **I'm feelin' alone and the world is so cold**_

 _ **It's hard to focus**_  
 _ **Without oxytocin**_  
 _ **Love is an ocean I can't control**_

He started to strum silently, so Ricardo felt it was a good time to cut in.

"Did you write that?"

The music came to an abrupt halt when Drake realized he wasn't alone. He turned and the first thing he noticed was the look of concern and sympathy on the man's face.

"Um...it's by Call Me Karizma. How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long. You practicing for the gig?"

"No, just...doing my own thing."

"Care if I come in?"

Drake shrugged. "No." He stood and sat down on the bed, then placed his guitar in front of him.

Ricardo took a seat next to him. "How are you?"

The boy shrugged. "Same as always. What about you?"

He was diverting. He went through stages where either he was dependent on Ricardo (almost the entirety of the last three years) or where he was completely shut off (usually during relapses). Now he was trying to find a balance between the two and it wasn't easy. He felt like a bother all the time, but he knew it was best — not only for himself, but for everyone involved — if he kept the Santos brothers updated. Updates seemed pointless when he always felt the same inside.

"I'm alright," Ricardo said, giving Drake an answer despite the fact that it was meant to distract him from what he came in here to do. "Content," he added.

"That's good."

"What's going on with you? You've been really down lately — more so than usual."

"I don't know. Sometimes it all comes at once, you know?"

The man nodded, then let the conversation die as he watched his friend. Drake kept his eyes low and wouldn't look at him. When he was on drugs or wanted to be, he could tell a lie just as easy as he could breathe, but when he was sober, he had more of a conscience and he really wanted to honor the honesty pact. Instead of fibbing, sometimes he would just be vague or distant. It didn't exactly mean he was lying. Sometimes he just wasn't giving the whole truth.

"Dee told me why you're quitting the play," Ricardo said.

"Oh," was all he said in response.

"You didn't wanna tell me?"

Shrug.

The man stayed quiet and Drake knew he expected an answer, so he gave him one. "I guess I just didn't wanna cause a bunch of drama. The Clem thing's getting old."

"You still think not talking to her is the best thing to do?"

Another shrug. "I guess."

"And quitting the play will solve things?"

"Yeah."

"You do realize that by quitting the play, you'll be doing exactly what she wants and you'll be showing her that she still has control over you, right?"

"I don't know what else to do. She broke into Hero's home, drugged her and got her fired simply because I ignored her text. If I actually do something really bad, she's gonna... I don't know what she'll do, but it'll be so much worse."

"But getting you to drop out of the play isn't her end goal. Do you really think she'll leave you alone after that? She won't. She's just starting small to make sure she can ease you back into her games. She knows you love _Rent_ and being apart of the production is something that you enjoy. She's trying to take away any chance you have at being happy because she knows you'll be easier to manipulate then."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" the boy asked hopelessly.

"I can't tell you what to do."

"That's bullshit. You always tell me what to do."

"I know. You're right," Ricardo said, "but you wanted to be more independent, right? I'm gonna let you handle this one. I'll support you no matter what you choose. It's not an easy decision and there's really no right or wrong choice. You just have to decide if you wanna take a stand or try to keep some semblance of peace."

"Is that my fatherly advice?"

The man cracked a grin. "That's your fatherly advice," he said. "Now come downstairs and let's play a board game. We'll do a game night — just the two of us."

Drake fell over onto his side and curled up on the mattress. "I can't. I'm so tired."

"Bullshit. You slept half the day."

All the boy wanted to do was mope around in his room in isolation. He didn't have the energy for board games. "But then you woke me up. You ruined my blanket fort, by the way."

"You really think I won't pick you up and carry you down there and embarrass you in front of your cats?"

Drake groaned, but he got out of bed because he knew Ricardo would seriously do some dumb shit like that just to piss him off. "I get to pick the game."

"Eh, we'll see."

* * *

"Yeah, he's in there talking to them right now," Dee said into his cell phone.

Ricardo's voice was on the other end. "He wanted to do it alone?"

"Yeah. I'm waiting in the car for him. We're about to get lunch."

"Where are you going? Me and Julio can meet up with you. I know he's dying to get out of the house."

"Mmm...I don't know yet. I really want a salad, but I think Drake wants a smoothie. We'll probably go by both places since they're right next to each other and eat at one of the tables by the hiking trail again. You know which one I'm talking about, right?"

"The one down the road from the library?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. We'll probably get Gezzo's. I've been wanting one of their burritos."

"Here comes Drake now," Dee said.

"Ask him if he wants me to get him that veggie quesadilla he always gets."

Drake opened the passenger's side door and got in. Ricky could hear their exchange.

"Ricardo's meeting us for lunch. You want him to pick you up something from Gezzo's?"

"No."

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"He said no," Dee said into the phone.

"Talking to the directors must not have gone well," his boyfriend said. He knew it was best to respect Drake's wishes because forcing him to eat when he was feeling this way could make him sick and he still had half a day of rehearsals left. "Alright, we'll see you when we get there."

After they hung up, Dee cranked his car. "Did you wanna get a smoothie?"

"I guess."

He pulled out of the parking space, then started down the street. "What happened?"

"They just said they'd talk to her — like give her a warning."

"Well, that's bullshit."

"I know, so now it's gonna be awkward because she knows I said something." He sighed with frustration. "I knew I should've just quit. This is gonna be so much worse."

"Well, who knows? Maybe she'll back off. I'm sure she cares about this job because she's been a play director for several years," Dee said. "But if she doesn't, just talk to them again and tell them nothing's changed."

"They don't give a shit. They think I'm being a baby and can't handle her constructive criticism. They thought I was exaggerating when I told them how she spoke to me. Now they think I'm some lying, whiny bitch, Allie's gonna treat me even worse, and Clem's gonna be so fucking pissed." He was craving a cigarette so much that his fingers were trembling as he ran them through his hair. "I don't know what I was thinking. I can't win against Clem. This was so stupid."

The second they came to a stop in front of a cluster of restaurants and small businesses, Drake got out of the car and started smoking and Dee went into the vegan place to get his salad. The younger of the two only went through half his cigarette before going into the smoothie shop two doors down. He didn't want to make Dee wait on him because of his bad habit. He ordered a Kona Rain, which mixed black raspberry with kiwi lemon-lime. When he got it, he admired the dark purple color. It was kind of like outer space in a cup.

Drake beat Dee outside, which gave him time to finish up his cigarette. When the man came out with his salad, they headed to the park. Ricardo and Julio joined them roughly ten minutes later and the group sat down and ate together.

* * *

"That's one downside to living in Las Vegas," came Rhinestone's voice from the phone. "I've had people ask me to mail them weed."

"Why can't they get their own like normal people?" Drake asked as he sat on his bed and played with his kittens.

"Because marijuana's legal here and we have dispensaries and there's a lot of variety."

"Oh, yeah."

"I would never take that risk again — not for no damn pot."

"You've mailed weed before?"

"I mailed myself meth," the boy said and Drake could hear that he was smoking a cigarette. This made him want to smoke, too, so he headed downstairs and out the front door. "I never told you about this?"

"I don't remember."

"It's when I first moved out here and I was still using. I moved here, but it didn't work out, so I went back home, but then Zach got on a plane and stayed with me at my dad's for about a week. He went back and then I went back not long after that," Rhinestone said. "But when I was going to Vegas to stay for the first time, I still had some meth and I was gonna mail it to myself because I didn't wanna risk trying to get on the plane with it. I wrapped it really tight in a bag and then put it in more bags to make it bigger. I was gonna put it in my deodorant. I talked to my dealer to see if he had any advice and he told me to melt a candle and stick the bag in wax and let it harden, so I did that, then I got the deodorant out of the tube and put the meth in and I cut off some of the deodorant and put it back in the tube. The candle wax made it solid so it wouldn't be moving around or look weird when it went through whatever machines they put your shit through. After that, I got on the plane and when I got to Vegas, I called my dad and told him I forgot my bag with all my toiletries and shit like that and asked him to mail it to me, so I guess technically my dad mailed meth, but he didn't know about it."

"Shit," Drake said. "That's pretty gutsy."

"I know. Thinking back on it, I don't know how I had the nerve. I was so doped up and it sounded so brilliant at the time and I guess it was because it did work, but I don't see myself doing that again, _especially_ not for no damn weed. Hey, lemme let you go. Zach just came in from work."

"Okay, see ya."

"Love you. Talk to you later."

"Love you, too."

When Drake got off the phone, he tossed it down on the mattress and sighed. This conversation didn't last as long as usual because Rhinestone was excited about going to some new restaurant he heard about on Facebook. It was Friday night. Drake should be going out, too, but he really didn't have the money, nor was he in the mood to get tangled up with any other girls — not with Dahlia looming over his shoulder.

He was bored and needed a distraction before he started thinking about his fucked up life and spiraling into a crippling depression, so he forced himself onto his feet and left the room. He walked down the hallway to Julio's room and pushed open the door. His friend looked up from his laptop.

"Yo," Julio said.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Just looking at skateboards."

On his way to the bed, Drake picked up this little wooden puzzle Julio had gotten from someone at some point. He's had it for a long time and still hasn't been able to get the pieces separated like he was supposed to. Drake plopped down on his stomach at the foot of the mattress and started fiddling with the puzzle.

"Gonna buy a new one?" he asked.

"Maybe one day, but not anytime soon. I got so much money to pay back after the DUI." Julio exited out of the web-page he was on and set his laptop to the side. "I don't know. Just wasting time because I'm bored."

"Same. Show me some new songs."

"Okay." This excited Julio because he, like Drake, loved to share the music he was listening to. "I know you're picky as hell, but you should like this one because it's from Missio and I know you like them.

After about a minute, music started playing from the laptop.

 _ **I am tired of seeing pretty people everywhere**_  
 _ **I am not a model, middle fingers in the air**_  
 _ **I used to drink whiskey, now I'm stuck with Perrier**_  
 _ **I'm an alcoholic, middle fingers in the air**_

"That's me," Julio said over the music.

 _ **I'll just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air**_  
 _ **I'll just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air**_

 _ **I don't like the music other people tend to share**_  
 _ **Hate your loser lyrics, middle fingers in the air**_

"And that's you," he said.

Drake laughed at this.

 ** _I'm a starving artist nowhere close to millionaire_**  
 ** _I prefer my Kia, middle fingers in the air_**

 ** _I'll just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air_**  
 ** _I'll just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air_**

* * *

Ricardo was surprised to see Drake awake and ready for rehearsals thirty minutes before it was time to leave. Usually, he was just now waking up. As the man sipped on his coffee, he looked out the window above the sink with furrowed brows. Drake was squatted down over by the tree line that separated their house from the neighbor's. Curiously, Ricky headed out the side door.

"The hell are you doing?" he asked.

Drake's head whipped around like he was a kid who just got caught sneaking a cookie before dinner. "Nothing," he said with false innocence.

Now Ricardo could see the open shoe-box the boy had. "What the fuck is that?" A few moments passed, then he saw his friend carefully pick something up. It was long and he immediately realized that it was a snake. "The _fuck_ are you doing?"

"Nothing," he answered again as he put the legless animal into the box. Once it was safely inside, he closed the lid, which had holes poked into it. He picked up the shoe-box and carried it back towards the house.

"You're bringing that thing in the house?"

"Just for a second."

"What the hell for?"

"To scare Julio."

This made Ricardo crack a grin. His little brother was terrified of snakes.

"Is it poisonous?" he asked.

"No, it's a corn snake."

Snakes were actually Megan's favorite type of animal, so Drake knew more than the average amount of knowledge when it came to these creatures. That's why he knew what type it was. It wasn't venomous. Instead, it wrapped it's lengthy body around it's prey and squeezed until its poor victim suffocated to death.

"See?" The young man cracked opened the box to show him, then closed it again.

"I didn't think we had those around here."

"I didn't either." He shrugged.

"You know, I think the neighbor's son has a snake. I wonder if it got out."

Drake shrugged. "You got their number, don't you?"

"I think I still have it written somewhere."

"Well, lemme show Julio before you ask them."

"Alright, I gotta see this." He followed his friend inside.

"You'll hold him down for me?"

"Okay."

They went upstairs and tip-toed down the hallway, then opened the door to the youngest boy's room. He was fast asleep, so Drake flipped on the light.

"Julio, wake the fuck up!"

The boy's eyes blinked open groggily a few times before his vision cleared and he saw the two guys. "What?"

"I got you this cool surprise." He carried the box over and Ricardo went around to the other side of the bed so that it would be easier to grab his brother.

"Why the fuck are there holes?" He asked with unease. "What the fuck's in there?"

The second Drake opened the box, Julio flipped out, but the oldest was there to keep him in place.

"Let go!"

"Look at it." He tipped the box towards his friend.

"No! Stop!" He tried his best to sound tough, but it wasn't working. His muscles were tense with fear. "Don't," he said as he watched the boy carefully pick up the wicked animal. "Bro, get off me."

Drake was grinning and Ricardo laughed as the snake was placed on top of the terrified young man. The prankster continued to hold on to it, but Julio could still feel the small weight on his back and it went all the way up to his shoulder and neck.

Despite his fear, Julio laughed nervously. He didn't want to have a full-on freak out in front of these guys and get teased about it for the rest of his life. "Dude, stop. I swear to God... Get it off me. Get it off." He tried to wiggle his way to freedom, but his older brother kept him pinned down.

There was laughter amongst the guys when the snake's tongue came out and touched Julio's jaw. The boy grimaced.

"Bro, stop." His mouth went dry and he stuttered slightly. "Drake, I'm gonna kick your ass. I swear to fucking God." He wasn't kidding, but Drake chuckled anyway.

"It's so cute, though," his teaser said innocently. "See?"

"No, I don't wanna see."

Drake brought it's head closer to his friend's eyes and Julio hid his face in the mattress. The boy shivered when he felt the snake's body sliding along his back. The tail end somehow got around Julio's bicep and started constricting as if killing his next meal.

"Get it off," came the victim's muffled voice. "Dude, it's squeezing my arm! Get it off, you fucking asshole!"

Finally, he felt the animal's weight leave him. Drake put it back in the box and set it to the side, then he immediately jumped up and ran for the door. Ricardo let Julio go and his little brother was gone in the blink of an eye. He couldn't help but grin. He reached for the shoe-box and exited the room. He didn't even make it to the staircase yet before he heard a crash, followed by a scream of pain. Something's definitely broken and it sounded glass. Julio's loud curses filled the house, then there was another loud bang. Ricardo reached the lower level just in time to see Drake, who was being grabbed from behind, push the bottoms of his feet against the wall, causing Julio to stumble back and hit the opposite wall with a grunt. Drake then swung his arm and elbowed his friend in the side. The second he was let go, he ran out the front door, still laughing. It took Julio a second to recover, but he went after him. Ricky just shook his head. After checking to see what damage had been done to the living room, he started searching the kitchen drawers for the neighbor's phone number.

Roughly five minutes later, Julio came back in panting for breath. He went straight to the refrigerator for some water.

"Ya get him?"

"No, he's too fucking fast."

The man set the telephone number on the counter, then picked up his keys. "That lamp you broke — you need to clean up all that glass and turn the end table back how it goes."

"I didn't do it."

His brother just gave him a look of unenthusiastic disbelief.

"I didn't. Drake's the one who fell into it."

"After you pushed him, right?" he said. "Y'all play too much. How come when me and you roughhouse or when me and Drake roughhouse, nothing gets broken, but when you two get together, shit hits the fan?"

"Probably because I know you'll yell at me and lecture me and ruin the fun. I don't know about Drake, though. He's probably scared that you'll snap his neck or something because he knows you always take it easy on him and he still doesn't stand a chance against you even when you're not trying."

"Well, don't you think _you_ 're being a little too rough with him? I mean, considering..."

"If I was being too rough with him, then he wouldn't be ballsy enough to be putting fucking snakes in my bed, would he?"

"I'm just saying. One of you could've gotten seriously hurt, especially around that glass and now I have to replace a lamp."

"I didn't even do anything," Julio said. "Are you gonna yell at Drake, too? It wasn't all me."

Ricardo wasn't yelling, but when he used his serious voice, he might as well be. Both of the younger boys knew that he meant business when he changed to this tone.

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Well, lemme come watch."

"So you guys can destroy the inside of my car. Hell no." He left the kitchen. "Clean up the living room," he ordered over his shoulder.

Julio's eyes then landed on the shoe-box that had holes punched in the top. "Hey, hey, hey! Take this thing with you!"

However, the door closed and his brother was gone. The man got in his car and started down the road. It wasn't long before he spotted Drake on the sidewalk. He was sitting down and smoking and Ricardo could tell from here that he was out of breath. When the boy saw the familiar car, his first instinct was to run. This was probably a prank and Julio was hiding inside. However, he was too tired to move, so if his revenge-seeking friend was in there, Drake was willing to say uncle.

Ricky stopped the car next to him and could hear him panting through the open window. "Yeah, a cigarette will help," he said sarcastically. "Get in the car."

He was almost finished anyway, so he tossed it and got in. "Before you start yelling, I'm sorry about the lamp. I'll buy a new one, okay? Don't yell at me."

That was the different between Drake and Julio. Julio didn't often take responsibility and Drake took too much. That's because Julio didn't give a fuck and was always willing to fight if things came to that while Drake did everything he could to keep the peace whether he was to blame or not.

"Why does everyone think I'm yelling? I'm just trying to have a normal conversation."

Drake winced as if his volume was too loud and aggressive, but he was only joking.

"Fuck off," the man said. "You going back home to get Julio's car or you want me to take you to rehearsals?"

"Julio's gonna kill me if I go back now?"

Ricardo laughed. "Oh yeah."

"Do you mind taking me then?"

Ricky checked his mirrors to make sure no cars were in the process of passing him, then he pressed the gas pedal again. "You grabbed everything you'll need from the house?"

"Yeah."

"Phone, wallet, money?"

Drake rolled his eyes. "Yes, dad."

"You act like you _don't_ forget something every time you leave the house."

"Says the guy who couldn't even find his fucking keys when they were literally out in the open on the bathroom counter."

"Because you and Julio leave so much shit all over your bathroom counter," the man retorted, "Seriously, you guys need to tidy up a bit."

"Is that why you're being so bitchy? You want us to clean?" The boy hissed when Ricardo punched his arm. "I'm kidding. Okay, we'll clean."

"I'm not trying to nag. I'm just saying. Neither of you are working right now and it would be nice to come back to a tidy home."

"I guess I've been slacking off lately," he said apologetically.

"Obviously, I don't mean you have to do everything. I'll do shit, too, when I see that it needs to be done, but there's been dirty dishes piling up and laundry piling up and the bathrooms need to be cleaned and I just haven't had time."

"You're right." He hated feeling like he wasn't earning his keep. "Sorry, I'll do better."

"You don't have to apologize. I know you've been going through some shit and let's face it. My brother is no help at all around the house. I just wanted to mention it to see what was up before this became a habit."

"I guess I got used to not having to do shit when I was sick and then I started laying around all day. I'll do the bathrooms when I get home."

"I'll do laundry then and get Julio to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen."

They were silent for a while — not an angry silence or awkward silence. It was just a comfortable silence.

"You know what?" Drake said suddenly, then he reached for his back pockets. "I did forget my wallet."

Ricardo just gave him that I-told-you-so look.

* * *

Dee followed Drake over to the bleachers and grabbed his towel to dab the sweat away from his forehead while his friend gulped down some water. Both were breathing hard as they tiredly plopped down on the seat.

"That was fun," the oldest said with a mischievous grin. "That one's my favorite."

They'd spent all morning on a song called _Contact_ , which was pretty much _Rent_ 's sex song, so what Dee said made the other boy laugh.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Ricardo's gonna love this when he sees it."

Drake grinned and Dee smirked back, but then he saw the young man's smile fade. He followed his eyes and noticed Allie approaching. Poor kid couldn't get through one fucking rehearsal without getting yelled at.

* * *

Drake was feeling better after getting through a few cigarettes, or at least that's what he was putting on anyway, so he was able to talk and laugh right along with his friends as if nothing had ever happened between himself and Allie.

"-and having to deal with Julio bitching all morning because I asked him to wipe down the kitchen counter, you can probably imagine how my day has been," Ricardo was saying.

Julio rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying. The kitchen is easy as fuck to clean. I could've left you with laundry. I hate doing laundry. You have to hype yourself up to put the clothes in to wash, then hype yourself up to move them to the dryer, then hype yourself up to fold them, then hype yourself up to put them away. It's an all-day job."

"But you get to sit and watch tv in between all that."

"So could you. It doesn't take that long to clean a kitchen. Maybe twenty minutes, but you spent more than half of your time pouting and crying and somehow took two hours."

"I wasn't crying, asshole."

"Sounds like you guys had a fun morning," Dee said.

"Oh yeah," Ricardo replied. "How have rehearsals been so far?"

"Great. We've been practicing this song about sex and death. I'm under a giant sheet with the other core actors like we're all fucking and then everyone throws the sheet off and starts saying _'it's over'_ because their relationships are failing, but mine's over because my lover just died from AIDS."

"Damn, that's sad."

"But it's such a cool combination, I think, to have the sex and death in one song. It's fun, too. Everyone's on stage moaning together. It's hard not to laugh."

"What are you, still twelve?" his boyfriend teased.

"Meanwhile," Dee continued, "Drake's off to the side climbing around on a chain-linked fence humping everything in sight."

Julio laughed at this. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's really fun to watch. He starts off with this girl who has her legs wrapped around his waist, then after their little bit, he puts her down and jumps up onto the fence with another girl and they do their thing, then when she moves on to the next, a guy comes up behind Drake and starts humping him on the fence. After that, he's up there humping nothing in slow-motion, showing off a bunch of hip action, which got all the ladies hot and bothered today." Dee gave the boy a playful shove.

Julio was laughing so hard that his voice came out in a higher, giddy pitch. "Boy, Mrs. Hayfer's gonna love this."

Drake's smile dropped. "Shit, I totally forgot she's gonna see that."

His friend was dying of laughter now and even Ricardo and Dee joined in. Upon seeing his cheeks turn red, Ricky started to feel a little bad for teasing.

"It's not that big of a deal, right? I mean, she's already seen everything you have anyway. Besides, you'll be fully clothed."

"Yeah, and you won't be center stage anyway. It's just off to the side," Dee added.

Julio said, "You think anyone's gonna look at a sheet they can't see what's going on under when they can watch a bunch of people climbing around on a fence, humping each other and having an orgy? Plus, the only reason she's going is to see Drake perform. Her eyes will be glued to him."

It was then that Drake remembered he'd have to quit the play. This saddened him. He'd rather have his former math teacher watch him pretend he was feeling pleasure getting it from behind in an imaginary orgy than not get to participate at all. He considered telling the others that he planned on dropping out, but he knew they'd try to talk him out of it and the last time he'd listened to Ricky about that had been a mistake. He'd tell them this afternoon after it was done.

"I'll put my hand over her eyes if that'll make you feel better," Ricardo joked.

Drake forced a chuckle.

* * *

" _Daaamn_ , bruh!" Ricardo exclaimed as he eyed Dee, who was approaching his car. It was four in the afternoon and he was picking Drake up from rehearsals. "Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you've got _'fine'_ written all over you."

Dee grinned so wide his eyes squinted as he opened the door and slid into the front seat. "Shut the fuck up."

"You didn't like that one?" He met his boyfriend halfway when he leaned in for a kiss.

"Well, it was definitely better than some of the others you've said."

Ricardo slipped his hand in Dee's. "You have a good day?"

"I did. Drake said to tell you he'll be out in a few minutes."

"I wish you didn't have to work today."

"Me, too! I'm so exhausted! I'd rather cuddle in bed with you."

"I know. When's your next off day?" Ricky asked. "I wanna take you out."

"Well, my mom actually wants us both to go over there for dinner sometime this weekend if you can."

"Sunday okay?" After Dee said it was, his partner continued, "So since we'll be eating there, I'll just plan something special that we can do before."

"Like what?"

"It's a surprise. Duh."

Dee rolled his eyes, but he smiled. He lifted the man's hand to his lips and kissed it, so Ricardo leaned in for another kiss. This one lasted longer than the first.

"So no crazy run-ins with Allie today?"

"Oh, shit. Yeah, actually. She came up to us right before lunch and asked to speak to Drake alone." He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I knew she would, so I was prepared. I left my phone on the bleachers to record what they were saying."

"That's brilliant." Now there would be proof and Allie would have to be fired. "Did you catch anything?"

"I haven't had the chance to listen yet. Drake's been around me most of the day and I wanted to talk to you about it first anyway because I didn't wanna overstep any boundaries."

Ricardo glanced past him and out the window to make sure the boy wasn't coming. "Play it."

Dee pulled up the recording and pressed play, then held it between the two. There was no picture due to where the phone had been placed, but they soon heard a voice that belonged to Allie.

 _"Nice work out there Dee."_

There was no response. Dee remembered this. The cause of his silence was because he hadn't wanted to be rude, but he also hadn't wanted to speak to her, so he'd just nodded his thanks.

 _"Mind giving me and Drake a moment?"_

There had been a look of surprise on Drake's face when he got up without protest or even a glance at him to make sure he would be okay, but he knew the boy didn't mind because he didn't want to be treated like a baby.

 _"You did well, too."_ Allie's compliment came as a shock to Drake and the two men listening to the recording. Maybe she would be better now that the others had spoken to her.

 _He spoke meekly. "Thank yo-"_

 _"But I guess you got a lot of practice when you abandoned my step-daughter and ran off to fuck literally everything that walks, you cock-sucking slutbag."_

Ricardo furrowed his brows and looked at the black screen on the phone.

 _"Tell me, how many dicks did you put in your mouth those two months?"_

Drake went quiet and both could picture him hanging his head like he often did when he felt ashamed.

 _"What was it she said you told her? I believe your exact words were_ 'Thirty or seventy or more.' _"_

Even though he and Dahlia were separated and he was beginning to feel hatred towards her, he would never not regret his actions and that's part of what made him a good person. Dee thought so even after the boy had tried to sleep with him. However, Drake and Ricardo had sexual relations and when Drake admitted this to him, he'd sworn that he got tested for STDs and came out clean. Still, he felt like maybe this was something important to bring up with his boyfriend later just to be safe.

 _Allie's hateful and judgmental attacks continued. "You fucked more than seventy people in two months. That's fucking disgusting. I'm amazed she ever forgave you after that. There's no telling how many diseases you picked up out there. No wonder you fit so well in this play about AIDS, drugs and homelessness. I bet you got AIDS when some seventy year old great-great-grandpa shot his load in your grossly stretched anus. You have it, don't you?"_

 _"No, ma'am," he said quietly._

 _"What else you got? Herpes? Crabs? Chlamydia? Gonorrhea? All of the above?"_

 _"Ma'am-"_

 _"Shut the fuck up, Drake."_

"Jesus..." whispered Dee when the young man obeyed.

 _"See, that's what you get when you're a whore. You take after your mom, don't you? I bet she was the same way. That's why your dad left, wasn't it? Because your whore mother was out there with an_ 'open 24/7' _sign right above her overused pussy?"_

Ricardo's hands clenched into fists. He was fuming, but doing his best to control his rage.

 _Drake attempted to deny the woman's claims. "That's not-"_

 _"Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut? Do you see any seventy-year-old men pulling their dicks out anywhere? Do you?" It became clear that she wanted an answer when she got in his face and repeated, "Do you?"_

 _"No, ma'am."_

 _"Then why is your mouth open?"_

There was silence. Ricardo knew Drake; he knew he was feeling overwhelmed with shame, humiliation, fear and hopelessness. Drake wouldn't want to give Allie the satisfaction of knowing she could break him, but there was no way he'd made it this far into the conversation without watery eyes at the very least. He was on the verge of crying for sure.

 _"Huh?" She waited. "Cat got your tongue? Huh?"_

More silence. Either Drake didn't answer or he gave her a shrug. He wasn't normally brave enough to disrespect others by leaving their questions without responses, so the latter was more likely.

 _Allie continued berating him. "I haven't once heard you speak a single word of intelligence since I met you, which means that mouth of yours is only good for one thing. You knew that, though, didn't you? That's what your gym coach taught you. That's what your father taught you."_

Ricardo felt sick to his stomach upon hearing this and he could only imagine what his best friend had felt.

 _"You're nothing," she taunted. "You're just a worthless...cock-sucking...slut."_

She knew. She knew the words that had been branded into his skin. She knew everything. She knew every last detail about him. He could never win against her, just like he could never win against her step-daughter. She had all the power.

"That bitch!" Ricky spat.

 _"It's a shame your father didn't get the chance to finish what he started when he tried to kill you. I think it would've done the world some good. Don't you?"_

 _Drake's voice was almost inaudible when he choked out a strangled, "Yes, ma'am."_ It broke Dee's heart because he sounded like his answer was sincere.

 _"I'll tell you what you're gonna do now. You're gonna apologize to me for trying to get me fired and then, after the day is finished out, you're gonna go to the other directors and tell them that everything you said about me was a lie. You tell them that you couldn't handle my constructive criticism on your performance and you wanted to get rid of me, then you quit the play. You understand?"_

 _"Yes, ma'am."_

 _"Now you can start with that apology. I want you to look at me. Stop hiding your faggot face like a coward."_

Drake sniffled, confirming what Ricardo already knew. He was crying. Dee had seen this. The boy had been pretty good at hiding it up until this point because he'd wiped his eyes a couple times. He was going to have to surrender and admit defeat and she was going to enjoy every last second of it. He sniffled again, then most likely followed orders and met her cold, green eyes.

 _"I'm very sorry for telling on you. I shouldn't've said anything. I'm sorry."_

 _"I can't believe you were dumb enough to think they would actually believe you. I've worked with those bitches for years. They're almost as retarded as you. Dahlia said you were an idiot, but I didn't realize you were_ this _much of a dumbass." Allie was definitely taking pleasure in what had to be the most pitiful expression on the boy's face. "Get out of my sight, you dirty hoe-bag homo."_

Drake could be heard walking away.

"Jesus!" Dee exclaimed. "She is _horrible_! I didn't realize that what she was saying to him was this bad. I mean, I knew it was awful. The things she's called him should've been enough to get her fired, but this! This is a whole new level of bitch. That's probably what he's in there doing right now. I thought he was going to the bathroom."

Ricardo remained silent because he knew he would snap if he didn't try to calm himself. Dee knew him well enough to know it was best to give him his silent time. His boyfriend had a huge temper. However, after Drake had first moved in, he'd had to learn to stop yelling and man-handling. He still blew up uncontrollably every now and then, like when the trucker had pissed all over his friend the day he got out of the hospital after his two month long relapse. He'd beaten that fucker so bad he probably had to take time off work to let the swelling in his eyes go down just so he could see the road when he was driving his eighteen-wheeler. This was why Drake was scared of him. He was scared to go back home after that first relapse and he was scared to face him after trying to seduce Dee. After the Dee incident, Drake had told Julio how fearful he was that Ricky would hit him, which ultimately led to his running away despite Julio's promises that he wouldn't be physically harmed. The traumatized young man wasn't off-limits when it came to Ricardo's rage. In fact, he's suffered from it many times, like when he was drinking underage at his bar and got into a fight with some guy bothering Mindy or when he lost his temper during an argument that had started when he'd learned that Drake was back at his father's after he'd vowed never to return or when he found the boy letting Tad fuck him on the kitchen table. The common denominator in those situations was that Charlie had always been present. Now that Drake was clean, he cowered away at the first sign of aggression.

"Okay..." Ricardo let go of his breath, then took another deep one. "Okay, so...okay." He unbuckled his seat-belt. "Well, we have to stop him from quitting the play."

"Hold on a sec," Dee said as he messed with his cell phone.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm cutting the video so we can play some of it, but leave out all the shit she said about prostituting and sexual assault." He finished up the new video. It started at the _"worthless, cock-sucking slut"_ line and ended at _"dirty hoe-bag homo."_ He opened the door like he was on a mission. "Alright, let's go. I'm about to snatch a bitch's wig."

Despite the situation, Ricardo couldn't help but smile. Even during dark times, Dee never lost his sense of humor. That's one thing he loved about him. He got out of the car and followed the man inside the theatre. Dee led him to an office and knocked on the door.

There was a muffled woman's voice on the other side. "Can you see who that is, Drake?"

Seconds later, the door opened and the sight surprised Drake. "What are you doing here?"

He wondered if they somehow knew why he was here, but how could they? Well, whether they did or not, they definitely knew now. He was in a room with all the directors, Allie included. She had a smug look on her face while the others wore both shock and confusion, partly caused by Drake's false confession and partly by the interruption at the door.

"Dude, are you quitting the play?" Ricardo asked quietly as his boyfriend entered the room uninvited and approached the directors with the evidence.

Drake was quiet.

"What the hell? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd try to stop me."

"Well, yeah, because I know how much fun you're having and I think it's good that you're having fun."

"It's not like I really have a choice."

However, it was at that moment that he heard Allie's familiar voice say, _"You're nothing. You're just a worthless...cock-sucking...slut."_ Drake looked at her, surprised that she would be so open about her thoughts in public, but he quickly realized that it wasn't her speaking. His eyes moved to Dee and the cell phone he had sitting on the desk. The directors surrounded it, listening with their jaws dropped. Allie was starting to sweat and squirm.

When Drake realized it was the conversation from earlier, he started to react similarly to the woman who had been bullying him. "What the fuck? Dee, don't play that."

"It's okay," Ricardo assured quietly so that only his friend could hear. "He cut out the personal shit."

The boy's volume matched his. "Dahlia's gonna fucking kill me for this."

"We'll deal with it as it comes. You can't let her control your life anymore. Don't you wanna be in this musical?"

He did, so he gave in and no longer protested. He glanced at Allie, gauging her reaction as she listened to herself giving him instructions to take responsibility and drop out of the play. When she caught him looking, he hung his head. Ricardo put a hand on his shoulder for support, but removed it and apologized when he felt Drake tense up. Sometimes during overwhelming situations, he liked to be comforted to know that he wasn't alone. This wasn't one of those times. This was the type of high-intensity situation that left him feeling scared and anxious, just like he'd always felt around his dad.

Drake often "blacked out" during verbal abuse, meaning he couldn't quite remember a lot of the things that were said during this one-sided conversation. He was just as shocked as the others to hear Allie use the words _"bitches"_ and _"retarded"_ when referring to her co-workers. She was definitely going down. The recording ended at _"dirty hoe-bag homo"_ and everyone in the room was looking at the woman who had said it with utter disbelief.

"This is bullshit," she said. "This was taken completely out of context."

"Then what was the proper context?" the lead director named Catalina asked. Her lips were pursed and her eyes fierce.

"He-" she started, then she stuttered over her words a bit. "You have no idea what this prick has done!"

A worried look flashed across Drake's eyes. Was she going to call him out?

"It didn't sound to me like he did anything. He was polite and respectful while you stood there degrading him."

"It's a front. He's a horrible person. Play the rest of the recording. You'll hear who he really is."

"Sorry, that's all I got." Dee said in a falsely apologetic tone as he shrugged.

"I'm sure it is." Allie rolled her eyes. "That's okay. I can fill them in myself. This shit stain right here is a junkie and a prostitute. He hangs out around truck stops and lets men fuck him for twenty dollars, then he buys drugs and gets fucked up on them."

Drake was beginning to breathe rapidly, Ricardo noticed. He was on the verge of a panic attack and his eyes were glazed over with tears.

"That kind of language is unnecessary, Allie." Catalina turned to Drake. "Is what she's saying true?"

Dee could tell that his friend was distraught and was considering telling the truth, so he spoke up first. "Of course not. Does he look like he's on drugs to you? Has he once acted any type of way that would give off the vibe that he's an addict? He comes in and he works his ass off just like everyone else. He's one of the best performers here and he's never even acted in a play before."

Allie spoke up. "He's so good at playing a homeless junkie because he is one. Playing this role is like living just another ordinary day in his life."

"You are slandering his name and his character because _you_ got caught. You've had it out for him since he was cast because he called off the engagement to your step-daughter and they split. All of these lies and accusations are just petty and pathetic attempts to get revenge on him for breaking your kid's heart. This is the third conversation that he's had with you here where he's walked away in tears and that's unacceptable. Drake and I auditioned together and we joined to have fun while getting the chance to be apart of a production we both love, but you've ruined that for him. Everyday he comes in, he has to deal with your death glares and snide remarks and taunts. Even when he's doing well, you call him out and accuse him of being off-beat or too sharp or whatever just to embarrass him in front of the others. And the horrible names you've called him — like faggot and cock-sucker, just to name a few — are pretty homophobic for someone involved in this particular musical, sweetie."

Ricardo could only stand there in amazement as his boyfriend — as he had said — "snatched a bitch's wig." He knew the situation was serious, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't totally turned on right now.

"That's all a crock of shit!" Allie said.

"No, he's right," said Catalina. "The way you've treated him is inexcusable. Whatever personal issues you two have outside of here should be _left_ outside of here. Also, we don't tolerate the kind of vile and sickening language you've used towards him."

To Drake, her voice started to fade. He was sweating and on high alert and Ricardo touching him earlier — although in a supportive manner — didn't help anything. It felt like the walls were closing in. There were two many people in this small room and all their talking and arguing and huffing and puffing left little air for him. He realized now that this was a lose-lose situation. Either he'd be allowed to remain in the play and Allie would get fired, starting an all-out war against Dahlia, or he'd still have to drop out due to the drama and accusations despite this argument, which will also cause an all-out war with Dahlia. He was fucked. She. Was going. To _destroy_ him.

Ricardo expressed sudden worry when Drake rushed past him. He ran after him and only caught up when the boy stopped at the bathroom. "Drake, it's me," he announced. He found his friend in the first stall, hunching over a toilet and already throwing up.

"This is so fucked up," the young man said when he was finished vomiting a couple minutes later.

"I know."

"That was so embarrassing."

"The other directors didn't believe a word Allie said. They're on your side."

"Dahlia's gonna be so pissed."

"We'll figure it out. We always do," he assured. "Everything'll be okay." He added, "Right?"

Drake weakly pushed himself to his feet. "Right."

"This is the first step towards taking back control of your life again. You did it with drugs. Now you just have to let go of Dahlia."

The boy nodded absently to himself. He no longer seemed as though he would have an anxiety attack, but he still didn't look well. This was fairly normal. Almost having one still left him with milder symptoms of actually having one, like disorientation, confusion and the shakes.

After Drake rinsed his mouth out with water he had scooped up from the sink faucet, Ricardo asked, "You alright?"

"Yeah. I wanna smoke."

"Okay. I'll go with you."

He wiped his damp cheeks. "Is anyone out in the hall?"

The man pushed the door open. "No, you're good."

"Okay."

He sniffled, then the two headed outside and Drake lit up. He got about halfway through his cigarette before Ricardo broke the silence.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. It was really nice, what you and Dee did. Clem would've come after me whether this happened or not," he said. "I guess I'm just nervous because now there's a definite line drawn." He took another drag, then slowly let go of his breath. "It didn't occur to me until recently, but I'm actually scared of her. I mean, I always have been, but I didn't realize it until we broke up."

Ricardo didn't get a chance to respond because his phone rang. He saw that it was his boyfriend and answered it. He only spoke a few words before hanging up. "Dee said Catalina wants you to come to the office."

Drake sighed. "You think they're gonna kick me out of the play?"

"No, I don't think so. Dee would've raised hell."

The boy let out a quiet, breathy laugh through his nostrils. "He was a total badass in there. Kinda hot, right?" He looked up at his friend to gauge his reaction and he laughed when he saw Ricardo grinning stupidly, unable to help himself.

"Shut the fuck up." He gave the young man a shove, then the two headed back inside.

On their way down the hall, they passed Allie, who was storming towards the exit and, of course, she had to get one last word in before she left. "Pathetic coward. You are gonna regret this! Do you hear me?"

Ricardo nudged him along and they went into the office. Dee was still in there, as well as Catalina and the other director named Zara.

"Drake," Catalina greeted with a kind smile. "Are you alright? You ran out of here pretty abruptly."

"I just needed some air," he answered, suddenly shy and distant.

"Zara and I would like to personally apologize to you for not believing your claims the first time you came to us. We've worked with Allie for years and have never known her to do something like this."

"It's okay." He hated when people apologized to him. He wasn't sure why exactly. Maybe he was used to being on the opposite end of apologies or maybe he felt he didn't deserve it. If someone insisted on saying sorry, he preferred a short acknowledgement of the wrongdoing or even just silent understanding, accompanied by a change in behavior or attitude or whatever.

"It's not okay. Zara and I should've been more vigilant and should've investigated further before writing you off as someone who didn't handle constructive criticism well. She was not giving you constructive criticism. The things she said to you are completely unacceptable. Allie will no longer be part of this production. However, we do hope that _you_ , on the other hand, would change your mind and stay."

"Yeah, I would like that," Drake said.

"Great." Catalina smiled. "Well, I guess that's everything. We'll see you boys bright and early tomorrow morning."

The three guys headed out and Dee grabbed his phone on the way.

"That went well," Ricardo said when they were outside. He looked at Drake to gauge his reaction.

"Yeah." The youngest turned to them. "Thanks. That was really nice of you to look out for me like that, Dee."

"That's what friends are for." He messed up the boy's hair like Ricardo often did to annoy him, which made his boyfriend laugh.

"You coming over for dinner, babe?"

"Yeah," Dee said. "Who's cooking?"

"Julio," the youngest answered.

The man squinted his eyes when he saw the sinister smile on Drake's face. "What's that about?"

Ricardo shrugged. "Julio lost some kind of bet that Drake cheated on."

"I didn't cheat," he denied. "I just practiced first, then spent the week sending Julio subliminal messages so that he'd make the bet and think it was his idea."

"That's pretty fucked up," Dee said with a chuckle.

"Think fast," Ricardo said suddenly, tossing the keys to Drake, who caught them with confusion. "I'm gonna ride home with Dee."

"Wow, the Dee verses Allie thing really got you all worked up, huh? So turned on you can't even wait until you get home."

Dee tried to hide his smirk, but couldn't.

"Shut the fuck up," Ricky said.

"No, it's great. It's cool. Totes adorbs. Enjoy the road-head." Drake took off running when the man moved towards him threateningly. "I'm kidding! Chill!"

Ricardo turned back to his boyfriend and the two laughed as they headed towards Dee's car.

"He ran off like you were gotta beat his ass."

"I _was_ gonna beat his ass and he knows it. He hates when I show off my superior strength, but he keeps fucking trying me." He got inside the car and buckled up. "One time, he got on my nerves so bad that I started chasing him around the house and he kept yelling for Julio."

"Julio didn't come?" he asked as he cranked the car.

"No, he did, but he didn't help him. He just came downstairs for the entertainment. Made himself a bowl of cereal and just stood there watching."

"What an asshole."

"Yeah, but it's better that he didn't get involve. Anytime Drake and Julio are wrestling together, shit gets broken. This morning, it was the lamp. Julio shoved Drake over the end table and they knocked it over."

"Shit."

"Yeah, they're rough. Drake deserved it, though. He woke Julio up this morning by putting a snake in his bed."

Dee laughed. "Shit, are you serious?! Y'all don't play at all," he said. "Remind me to never spend the night over there again."

"What? You're scared of a little snake?" his boyfriend teased.

"I'm not scared."

"Mm-hmm."

"I like yours, don't I?"

Ricardo's jaw dropped and he scoffed, which made Dee laugh. "Okay, well, that road-head's definitely off the table."

"I'm kidding, babe." He grabbed Ricky's hand and kissed it for reassurance. "It's very big."

The man wasn't really offended because he knew the size of his package was larger than average. He continued to hold the driver's hand, rubbing his thumb across his skin gently as a small way of showing affection.

"So if Drake's willing to handle a snake to scare Julio, you don't think he's planning something bad to do to you as revenge for waking him up with a water gun?"

"He might be planning something, but it won't be as bad as anything he would do to Julio because he's scared I'll kick his ass."

"And he's got nothing on these gigantic muscles." Dee massaged his passenger's bicep.

"Thanks, babe," Ricky grinned, "but you're still not getting that road-head."

Dee pulled away with a frown. "I'ma kick Drake's ass myself for ruining my shit."

* * *

Drake beat the couple home, but only by less than a minute. His door was open and one of his feet was on the concrete, but he remained inside the vehicle. When Ricardo approached, he saw that he was sending a message.

"You better not have been texting and driving."

"I wasn't," the boy said. "I'm just now responding. Sawyer wanted to come hang out. Is that okay?"

"Drake, how long have you lived here? You know you don't have to ask when you wanna invite company."

"I know. I just thought if you guys were about to go to pound town, I didn't wanna subject my guest to all those noises."

"Alright, I'm done with your stupid ass."

Drake smiled as the man walked away. He sent his response, then got out of the car and followed the couple inside. Ricardo reached the door first and when he opened it, a bucket trap above the door turned over, spilling spaghetti all over the man. Julio laughed obnoxiously.

"Julio..." his older brother growled as the sauce dripped down his skin.

Drake and Dee carefully stepped around him to get a better look.

"I am going to _kill_ you." He wasn't going to now because he didn't want to sling spaghetti everywhere while chasing Julio all over the house, but it was coming later. Oh boy, it was coming.

"That was meant for Drake," the young man explained, still dying of laughter.

Drake was laughing, too. "Oof. That sucks."

"You couldn't have come up with something that would've guaranteed you had the right target?"

"Well, this works, too. Drake wouldn't have been as pissed, so it wouldn't have been as funny. You should see the look on your face right now. Lemme show you." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture, then held it out for his brother to see. He wasn't scared of him like Drake was. "This is payback for posting that picture of me in the blanket fort," he said. "Plus, you were the one that held me down when he put the snake on me, so you were apart of it."

Dee scooped the noodles off of his boyfriend and dropped them in the floor with disgust.

"You're so fucking dead," Ricky threatened.

"Would it make you feel better if I got Drake back, too?" Before Drake could defend himself, Julio hit him in the groin.

The boy yelped as he dropped to his knees, clutching himself. He hunched over and took short, staccato breaths. His teeth were clenched and he growled at the pain. "Asshole!"

There was more laughter, but now it was at Drake's expense. Dee shrugged, then grabbed a handful of spaghetti off of Ricardo again. This time, he dropped it on a hurting Drake rather than on the floor. This made Ricky feel better, so he joined in.

* * *

"Look what I found!" Drake announced excitedly as he bounced into the kitchen, his hair damp from his shower.

Julio was making dinner while Ricardo and Dee hung out with him, all conversing as if the spaghetti incident hadn't even happened. The Santos household was in the middle of an all-out war, but it didn't mean that any of the pranks were to be taken seriously.

When Drake set a radio on the island, Julio said, "I forgot about that thing."

It was the one they used to keep in the bathroom so that they could listen to music in the shower. This was before they had portable speakers. When they got those, the radio disappeared underneath the sink.

"And look what was inside." Drake pulled out a disc.

Dee read the childish scribbles. " _Ricardo's Mix_." He looked at his boyfriend teasingly. "Wow."

"Oh my God," Ricky grinned with embarrassment.

"We used to listen to this shit _all_ the time," Drake said.

"I don't even remember what was on it."

"Me neither, but it was dope." He put the CD back in and carried the radio over to the counter so that he could plug in the cord.

Moments later, music started and it was so specific that everyone immediately knew what song it was. _Purple Pills_ by D12. The reactions ranged. Julio laughed, Dee looked at his boyfriend with surprise, Ricardo was even more embarrassed and Drake got even more excited.

"Oh, hell yeah." Drake grinned. "This is so cool!" The second Eminem's voice started the chorus, he rapped right along with him.

 ** _I take a couple uppers, I down a couple downers_**  
 ** _But nothing compares to these blue and yellow purple pills_**  
 ** _I've been to mushroom mountain once or twice but who's countin'?_**  
 ** _But nothing compares to these blue and yellow purple pills_**

"You probably shouldn't be listening to this kind of music anymore," Ricardo suggested, but Drake ignored him and continued, while putting on a show.

Drake: **_Cool, calm, just like my mom_**  
 ** _With a couple of Valium inside her palm_**  
 ** _It's Mr. Mischief with a trick up his sleeve_**  
 ** _Roll up on you like Christopher Reeves_**  
Julio: _**Aaahhhhhh**_

Julio jumped in with the backup as if he was fourteen-years-old again. Despite the age difference, he had always been close to Ricardo since they shared a bedroom. The two brothers plus Drake would hang out in there and listen to the oldest's music so often that they all had their own parts and everything.

Drake: _**I can't describe the vibe I get**_  
 _ **When I drive by six people and five I hit**_  
Julio: _**Whoops**_  
Drake: _**Aw shit, I started a mosh pit**_  
 _ **Squashed a bitch and stomped her foster kids**_  
Julio: _**Ah!**_

Dee couldn't help but watch with pure amusement as the two put on a show, moving around the kitchen like they did this kind of thing everyday. He looked at Ricardo, whose cheeks were pink with embarrassment. He cringed even more and shook his head when Drake came over and tried to get him to join their fun.

Drake: _**These shrooms make me hallucinate**_  
 _ **Then I sweat 'til I start losin' weight**_  
 _ **'Til I see dumb shit start happenin'**_  
 _ **Dumber than Vanilla Ice tryna rap again**_  
Julio: _**Aaahhhhhh**_  
Drake: _**So bounce, bounce, come on, bounce**_  
 _ **I said come on, bounce!**_

He played this line as if he were speaking directly to Ricardo, but the man wouldn't stand.

Drake: _**Everybody in the house with a half an ounce**_  
Julio: _**Me!**_  
Drake: _**Not weed, I meant coke, dumbass sit down**_  
 _ **We don't bullshit, better ask around**_  
 _ **D12 throws the bombest bash in town**_  
 _ **Bizarre, your mom is passin' out**_  
 _ **Get her ass on the couch 'fore she crashes out**_  
Julio: _**Come on**_

Like Drake, Julio said this as if he were urging his brother to join. The man refused to stand, but he rapped his part for them, feigning annoyance as he began.

Ricardo: _**Fuck that, someone help Denaun**_  
 _ **He's upstairs naked with a weapon drawn**_  
Julio: _**Hey Von you see me steppin' on these leprechauns?**_  
Ricardo: _**It gotta be acid 'cause the X is gone**_  
Julio: _**Yeah, I took 'em all, dog, with some parmesan**_  
 _ **And I think my arm is gone**_  
Ricardo: _**Naw, it's probably numb**_  
 _ **Young, dumb, and full of cum**_  
 _ **And I think he 'bout to swallow his tongue**_  
Julio: _**Scary ass it was a false alarm**_  
 _ **You think I'm 'bout to die when I just got on?**_  
Ricardo: _**Well, stop actin' stupid**_  
 _ **You so high that you might wake up with a guy on some new shit**_

They all laughed at how ironic this line was now that Ricky had embraced his sexuality.

Ricardo: _**Yeah, I think I did too much**_  
Drake: _**Uh-huh**_  
Ricardo: _**This substance equals cuffs**_  
Drake: _**Uh-huh**_  
Ricardo: _**Red pills, blue pills**_  
Ricardo and Julio: _**And green**_  
Ricardo: _**Big pills**_  
Julio: _**That's ill**_  
Ricardo: _**Mescaline**_

This time, all three went in on the chorus and Dee even joined them. Afterwards, Julio said something, but no one could hear over the music, so Drake turned it down a bit.

"Can you get the cream of mushroom out of the pantry?"

"Yeah."

"That's a bad song," Ricardo said. "You don't need to be singing that song." Part of him started to think about that same recurring thought he sometimes got in his head. He was the one who had introduced Drake to this song and he wondered if it had anything to do with the beginning of the boy's drug addiction. He didn't like to mull over these kinds of thoughts for too long because then they would start to bring him down. He knew his friend would assure him that this had nothing to do with the way he'd turned out and that Ricardo hadn't played a part in his downward spiral at all. Whether this was true or not, Ricky _did_ help him get his life back on track and that counted for so much more.

"So this is the kind of music you listened to, huh?" Dee teased.

"Fuck off." He gave him a playful shove.

Meanwhile, Drake was standing over Julio's shoulder as he opened the can of soup. "How much longer?"

"Fucking forever because you picked this thing that would take forever to cook," he snapped back.

The young man groaned.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Julio stared at him.

"I'm starving," Drake defended.

"Boo fucking hoo. Guess you should've thought about that before you tried to be clever. Now it's gonna bite you in the ass."

Dee and Ricardo turned their attention to the bickering boys and listened in as Drake opened the cabinet and grabbed a bowl.

"I'm gonna eat cereal."

"No!" Julio smacked the plastic bowl out of his hand with an aggressive karate chop and it landed on the ground.

"The fuck, Julio?!"

"You will _not_ spoil your dinner when I'm making fancy shit! If you're gonna make me stand here and cook for two fucking hours, then I'm gonna make you wait to eat for two fucking hours."

"You're so fucking annoying," Drake grumbled, but he picked up his bowl and put it away.

The eavesdropping couple laughed.

"You guys act like you're married or something," said Dee.

"We might as well be," said Julio. "Neither of us are getting pussy right now and I'm tired of doing the shit myself."

"Better watch what you wish for," his brother said. "Drake'll actually do that shit."

Drake scoffed. He was kind of offended by what the man said. He knew Ricky hadn't meant it maliciously, but it was still hurtful. However, the last thing he wanted was another Drake cry-fest, so he went along with the joke. "I don't do that shit for free anymore, though. If we're doing this thing, I want your flat-screen and your Blu-Ray player."

Julio said, "You don't even own any fucking Blu-Rays."

"I'll get some."

Julio looked at him with squinted eyes. "I really can't tell if you're being serious or not."

Drake shrugged. His sexuality was something he'd low-key been confused about ever since he'd lived with his father, but after his two month long relapse that left him spending most of his nights bouncing from one tractor to another, he was completely unable to understand himself and differentiate desire from duty. The sex became enjoyable. In the time that followed, especially during his voluntary experiment with Ricardo, things started to become a bit clearer. He wasn't physically attracted to men and he never saw any that he desired to have sex with. He liked women, but he also liked anal. He liked playing with breasts and he actually enjoyed giving cunnilingus. Giving head wasn't an enjoyable experience as much as it was...a chore. Like Ricky and Julio had said, it was a form of payment that he never should've learned about. Although he could somehow comprehend this now, he didn't see himself saying no if, hypothetically, Julio did ask for a blowjob or more even. It was so ingrained in his brain that it was normal and that it was the only reason for his existence and that would take a lot of therapy to reverse. He called it sexual freedom while Ricardo called it the exact opposite. It was only sexual freedom if the desire was there, but the desire wasn't there for Drake. It was indifference. It was a desperation to please. It was a need to continue the punishment Martin was no longer able to give him. It was a fucked up byproduct of the trauma his dad had caused. The boy wanted nothing more than to earn his father's love, but even he knew that Martin would be absolutely appalled and repulsed by his behavior if he was still alive to see it. No matter what, he could never do anything right in the eyes of his father.

"Anyway, I'm gonna smoke," the young man said, dismissing himself.

Ricardo could tell that he was upset and he immediately felt guilty. "Drake," he tried, but his friend had already left the kitchen. A second later, he heard the front door open and close. "Shit, I hurt his feelings." He sighed, then stood. "I'll be back."

He went outside and found Drake in the chair. He already had a lit cigarette between his lips and he was weeping. Ricky knew this because his friend wouldn't look at him.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't know why I said that."

Drake shrugged. "It's fine." He was trying to play it off like he wasn't upset and he was doing a good job, but Ricardo knew him better than that.

"I'm a jerk. It wasn't funny. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," but this time, his voice cracked, proving the exact opposite. This frustrated him, but he couldn't keep pretending he was fine. "I don't know why I'm crying. It's not even a big deal."

Ricardo dragged the second chair closer to Drake's before he sat down, then he pulled his friend in for a hug. "I'm sorry."

"It's really okay," the boy said again. "I just get so fucking disgusted with myself sometimes. I know you didn't mean it like that."

"I really didn't. It wasn't meant in a bad way at all."

He knew what it sounded like. It sounded like he was calling Drake a whore. Drake was always the type to sleep around. A lot of people did that. That's not the reason he was upset.

"It's okay," he couldn't stop saying. "It's not even what you said. It's what I did...because you're right."

"No, Drake, I wasn't. What I said had nothing to do with you getting involved in sex work. I was referencing the time we shared at the cabin. I wasn't trying to make you feel bad about anything. In fact, I'm so grateful that me and you did that because, if it wasn't for that moment, I'd probably still be lying to myself about who I am. You have no idea how much you've helped me love and accept myself," Ricardo said. "I know you felt like you had to do a lot of shit on the streets to get by, but I swear I don't think any less of you because of it. No one here does and that's not the person we see when we look at you."

"I wish I could go back," Drake said. "I wish I would've been brave enough to ask for help before things got so bad."

"I know," Ricardo said as he squeezed tighter, "but you're here now."

The young man took comfort in his embrace for a few more moments before separating. He kept his head low as he wiped his eyes and his nose and he sniffled. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"I know you didn't mean it in a rude way. My brain just clings to a thought and then runs wild with it and then I get overwhelmed and upset. It's stupid." He sniffled again as he continued to wipe his eyes off on his sleeve.

"It's not stupid," the man assured.

"I'm so fucking tired of crying all the time," said Drake. "It's not cute."

"There's nothing wrong with crying. You're just a sensitive guy is all."

"Great. Just what every girl wants. Someone who can outcry them during _The Notebook_."

Ricardo couldn't help but crack a small smile. "You talk about your feelings and you listen when others talk about theirs. You have a lot of empathy for people. A lot of women want that...probably. Honestly, I'm the last guy you should get advice from about women, but I think communication is key in every relationship and you're good at that."

"Thanks," the boy said. "I don't know why I'm stressing about relationships anyway. That's the last thing I need right now."

"I think that's probably a good idea."

"It's just always been so hard for me to be alone. I've been dating since...like, kindergarten when Melanie Reese kissed me on the jungle gym."

"Being single's not that bad. Learning to love yourself without needing the approval of someone else is one of the best things you can do for yourself. I think after you do that, when you _do_ get in a relationship again, it'll be more solid."

Drake gave one last sniffle, then he reached for his lighter because his cigarette had died out during their hug. "Thanks. I feel better now."

"You gonna stay out here for a while?"

"Yeah. Sawyer shouldn't be too much longer."

"I don't want you to sit out here by yourself and start thinking yourself into a depression spiral."

"I won't," Drake said. To assure him, he added, "The last thing I wanna do is have a crying episode while I have company. That's embarrassing."

"Okay." Ricardo gave his shoulder a supportive squeeze after he stood, then he started to go inside. "Oh, you remember your counselor appointment is tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"You're going this time?"

"Yeah," he promised. "No matter what."

The man opened the door and could just faintly hear music. "Oh, shit." He looked at his friend. "Pac's on."

"Well, I can't miss that." Drake put his cigarette in the ashtray and stood.

Ricardo smiled as they went into the kitchen together. It was obvious the boy had been crying, but everyone was used to this by now. They knew Ricky had talked to him, so no one else asked about it because they knew he didn't like being treated like a baby.

The Makaveli rap was just beginning and it was one that all four knew by heart.

 _ **Come with me**_  
 _ **Hail Mary, run quick, see**_  
 _ **What do we have here now?**_  
 _ **Do you wanna ride or die?**_  
 _ **La da-da-la la la la la**_

 _ **I ain't a killer, but don't push me**_  
 _ **Revenge is like the sweetest joy next to gettin' pussy**_

* * *

"Hey? Drake?" Ricardo whispered. He refrained from shaking him awake because sometimes the sudden unexpected touch could scare him. Instead, he raised his volume slightly. "Drake, wake up."

His eyes opened suddenly like he was on full alert and he took in a sharp breath through his nostrils. Once he saw that it was only his roommate and that he was in the sanctity of the Santos home, he calmed down. "What'swrong?" he slurred.

"Are you gonna get up for your appointment?"

"Time izzit?"

"Nine forty-five. You said it was at eleven, right?"

"Yeah." This was all he said because he was so tired and when he was tired, he was often confused. Why was Ricardo waking him up? Did he forget to set the alarm? No, he definitely set it. He remembered now. He set it for ten. "I have fifteen minutes."

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were gonna get up. I have to leave for work now. You promise you'll get up and go?"

"Yeah," he said, half asleep.

Ricky left him alone and quietly left the room. Drake was asleep in no time. Fifteen minutes went by before the alarm on the boy's phone went off. Again, his eyes shot open and his breathing got fast. He hated not getting to wake up naturally. Beginning his mornings like this set him up for failure for the rest of the day. He felt movement behind him and rolled onto his back.

Sawyer was waking. His eyes opened tiredly and when he saw Drake, he offered a small smile. "Good morning."

Drake stretched out his muscles and let out a quiet moan while doing so, then he rubbed his eyes.

"You about to go to your appointment?"

"Yeah."

"Think you could drop me off on the way."

"Yeah."

Sawyer went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth with Drake, then while his friend got dressed, he trudged downstairs and hung out with Julio, who offered him a quick breakfast. Ricardo never told Julio he had to get up at this time to make sure their friend made the right decision, but he wanted to make sure Drake went to his appointment, too, so he had breakfast ready. Now that he was sober, he was going to become a better friend. He wanted to be a good influence, just like Drake was trying to be for him. No more tearing each other down. They were going to build each other up and set examples and help each other through ruts. Together, they were going to become better people.

When his sobriety buddy came downstairs, he declined food and instead had a couple cigarettes for breakfast. While he smoked, he started to feel bad because he knew Julio had made him something already, so he took some bacon to go and thanked the young man. He made sure to grab his phone because he knew that despite Ricardo's growing trust, he would definitely check to confirm his location when it was time for the appointment. After that, he gave his kittens a kiss and was out the door.

After they got a couple minutes down the street, Sawyer broke the silence. "Thanks for letting me stay last night and listening to me vent."

"Of course. Any time." He still wasn't eating his bacon, but he had it wrapped up in a napkin in the cup holder for afterwards if his nerves settled. "Ryan's an asshole. You deserve better."

"Thanks. We've just been together for so long and it's hard to leave. I still love him."

"I know what you mean," Drake said sincerely. "I still think about Clementine everyday. I just wanna call her and hear her voice, but I know it's a bad idea. I mean, the one time I _did_ see her after we split, I ended up relapsing that night."

"I've been so wrapped up in all my bullshit lately. I've been meaning to check in ever since your birthday. You look like you're doing better, though."

"Yeah, I cleaned up again."

"That's good. I was gonna talk to you about it. I know it looked like I was trying to cover for you, but I wasn't. I just didn't want there to be a big explosion or anything. There were kids there and I know you would've hated yourself for being caught high around Ricardo and Julio's family. I could tell Ricardo knew that something was up with you and he's really the only one who needed to know. I didn't want anyone else to get mad at you, so that's why I tried to help you out," Sawyer said. "I just wanted to clear that up because I would never become an enabler for your addiction. If I knew you were heading down that road, I'd confront you about it and then tell Ricardo if that didn't work."

"Thanks," said Drake. "I guess I should've made the effort to talk to you about this sooner. I've been kinda distancing myself from you lately after that because I thought that, if I did mess up again, you would be the first one I went to if I needed drug money or something."

"Yeah, I could tell something's been up with you because you haven't responded to many of my messages, but I just haven't had time to approach you about it because of all the shit with Ryan."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be a dick."

"No, don't be sorry. In fact, I'm glad you're willing to distance yourself from people you think are gonna fuck up your sobriety. That's a good thing. You gotta take care of you."

"I promised Ricky I wouldn't slip up again and I really mean it this time. I guess I've meant it every other time, too, but this time feels different. I've just betrayed Ricky a lot and he's having a hard time trusting me, which I get."

"You guys fighting a lot?" Sawyer asked.

"No, not at all. We talked through it and put a system in place. It just gets annoying sometimes."

"What kind of system?"

"Like, he holds on to all my money and I have to ask when I wanna buy something and then bring the receipt back to prove that I bought what I said I would buy. Sometimes when I come home, he stares at me and I can tell he's looking to see if my eyes are dilated. He does random bag and room checks every once in a while, which is weird, but I know he feels just as awkward doing it and I'm really the one who put him in the position where he feels like he has to do it anyway. Plus, he has my phone set up to share my location with him, which I guess is fine because I don't wanna end up on the streets again. It's just a constant reminder that I'm a fuck-up, I feel like," said Drake, then he added, "I mean, but it's whatever. I know I don't really have the right to complain. Today makes three weeks that I've been sober, but that's not really anything."

"Are you kidding me? That's everything. Three weeks is not an easy feat. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it's a lot."

This made Drake feel a bit better. "I guess I just hate starting over. I had nine months under my belt and then I fucked that up. I haven't come anywhere close to that long since."

"You'll get there. I know you will."

Drake heard him say it and he believed it, too.

"And hey, it's been three weeks. Maybe you can approach Ricardo and ask for a bit of slack. It doesn't have to be much. Just start small, you know? Maybe talk to him about the way he stares at you to see if your eyes are dilated. Just tell him how you feel and see if you two can work something out. You're both good at compromising," Sawyer said. "Besides, that's a habit that might take some time for him to break. He probably doesn't even realize he does it."

"I just don't want him to get mad at me. He has trusted me with a few things these past few weeks and I'm grateful for that. He's able to get past things a lot faster than I can. When Gem's ex betrayed me by telling a bunch of people one of my secrets, I quit talking to him for years. I lied to Ricardo about using and then manipulated him into thinking my relapse was his fault and I've done shit like this plenty of times before, but he forgives me every time. I feel like I'd be asking too much if I tried to speed up the process."

"It's Ricardo. He's always willing to hear you out. The worst thing he can do is say no, but he wouldn't get angry at you for expressing your feelings."

"Yeah, you're right," said Drake. "I think I'll talk to him."

Sawyer nodded. They continued to talk all the way to Gemini's house, then the passenger thanked him for letting him stay. He gave the boy a hug and wished him luck before getting out of the car. While Drake stuck around to make sure he got inside, he put the office address into his phone to get directions, then he backed out of the driveway and headed for the counselor's place.

* * *

The waiting room was pretty spacious with a high ceiling, yet Drake was the only patient there. The walls were a shiny dark brown wood and frames hung on the wall, each containing a professional photo of each of the counselors that worked here. The young man was feeling anxious as he waited and his nerves only got worse by the second, so he started texting Julio for support. He didn't want to have a panic attack here because then he'd always associate this place with that and never want to come back for fear of having another one. This is why Dee and Drake never went to Subway with the rest of the _Rent_ crew anymore.

 **Julio: prob gonna play a game**

 **Drake: wut game**

 **Julio: uncharted maybe**

"What's your name?"

The boy looked up from his phone. "Drake," he answered, then he thought to add, "Parker."

It was a dark-skinned woman with short hair. She wore a bland blouse and black slacks and although she had a generally kind face, there was something off about her expression. "You're early."

He looked down at his phone again and saw that it was just after eleven. He wasn't early. She was late.

"You're not supposed to be here until four."

He squinted his eyebrows with confusion. "I thought my appointment was at eleven."

"No, it's at four."

"Oh." See, this is why he shouldn't be keeping up with his own shit. He sucked at that. It's not even like he accidentally looked at the appointment card wrong and maybe saw two ones instead of just one. He'd made up a completely different number somewhere in between the time that he'd made the appointment and now. How did that even happen? "I'll just come back later then."

"I just had a patient cancel their appointment. I can see you now while you're here." She didn't seem too thrilled about this, though.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind—"

"It's fine. Follow me."

She seemed rather irritated and Drake immediately felt like she hated him. However, he tried to not dwell on that. He wanted to make this work — not just for himself, but also for Ricardo and Julio. He had to move past it even though he felt like he was a total fuck-up. He's been repeating the time over and over in his head for weeks. Seriously, how could he screw this up?

The woman led him through a door and down a hallway right past the check-out window. They turned a corner, went down another quiet hallway, then entered a room. There was a large oak desk with two chairs in front of it. Drake sat in one and the counselor sat in her office chair that was on the opposite side after closing the door.

"My name is Autumn Sobik," she introduced.

Drake offered a small, shy smile.

"I have a few papers I would like you to fill out — kinda like quizzes. They're pretty short. One will ask you some questions related to depression because that's what you mentioned over the phone, correct?" She opened one of her drawers and pulled out a sheet of paper, then placed it in front of Drake, who scooted his chair closer slightly.

"Yes, ma'am."

"This is just gonna help me to see where you are and determine whether or not you are depressed or if it's something else."

This upset him because he felt like she didn't believe him, but he tried to tame that thought. He knew it was just her job. A lot of people were so quick to jump on the depression train like it was a fad, so maybe this test was a good thing.

Autumn stood and went over to a filing cabinet. She started fingering through some folders. "I also want to test you for ADHD."

This wasn't something he'd mentioned on the phone and it wasn't a paper she had ready. She'd never planned on giving him this questionnaire, but after the incident with him mixing up his appointment time, she wanted to throw this in. This made him even more upset. It was a simple mistake. He had a lot of issues and only one hour to talk about them all and now she was going to waste his time with this. Over a fucking scheduling mishap!

"There's a pen right there. Go ahead and fill those out."

Drake grabbed one out of the cup and took the clipboard she handed him, then he grabbed the two pages. It wasn't super long, but still, he wasn't a fast reader and the way the questions and answers were worded required thought or maybe he was just stupid. This could take him fifteen minutes to complete. That's a fourth of his time wasted on an unnecessary ADHD test and honestly the depression test was unnecessary as well. This would all go much fast if she just asked him these questions herself and maybe explained each one to him. As if his sixty minutes wasn't already wasting away, Mrs. Sobik continued to give him a rundown of how things would go.

"After you finish, we'll go over the results and then I'm gonna ask you for a summary of why you're here. If we have time, we'll try to dig in deeper today..."

Her voice faded out as he read the first question. He was only half paying attention to what he read because he was trying to soak in her words at the same time. _Over the past two weeks, how often do you feel little interest or pleasure in doing things — not at all, several days, most days, everyday?_ After reading the question and answers, he sat there and tried to think of examples so he could figure out which to circle. However, he felt like none of the answer choices properly conveyed him. What exactly was this referring to? When it came to things such as rehearsing for _Rent_ or having sex, he totally enjoyed those, but at the same time, he might not feel all that excited about a book or film he was spending his time on. This could all occur in the same day, so if he has a lot of fun practicing some choreography at the theatre and then goes home and his mood changes so that he can't really get into the book he's trying to read, does that mean he feels little interest several days or everyday? Or maybe just most days? Plus, there seemed to be a huge jump between _not at all_ and _several days_. Why didn't they use the word _occasionally_ or _sometimes_ or something that would make more sense and not seem so drastic? What if his answer was just a few days and not several days? What was he supposed—

"Don't think too hard," Autumn interrupted. "It's simple. Just go with whichever seems to fit you most."

 _That's what I'm trying to fucking do,_ he thought. He felt overwhelmed and just picked one: several days.

The woman continued her monologue that Drake was hardly able to pay attention to. "We'll save some time at the end of the session so we can talk about a treatment plan."

 _Should I look at her when she's talking to me or keep filling this out? Is that rude? She's fucking rushing me, though. I don't know what the fuck she's saying. God, she totally hates me. Shit, she's staring at me. Did she ask me something? Fuck._ "I'm sorry?"

"I just asked how the tests were coming along."

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, they're coming." _I'm such a dumbass._

Autumn continued to talk and Drake tried to listen because the last thing he wanted was to be caught not listening twice. The questions didn't get any easier and many minutes later, the counselor finished her spiel and again urged the boy not to over-think his answers. After that, she remained silent and the silence was even worse because then Drake kept obsessing over the fact that she was waiting on him and he couldn't focus on what he was reading. His hands were so hot and sweaty that at one point, the pen slipped right out of it. He apologized nervously although there was really no need to.

When he finished with one sheet, he passed it over, then started on the ADHD one. He felt better that she now had something to work on, too, but then she finished tallying up his totals before he finished his second quiz. _She hates me. She totally fucking hates me. She was probably trying to go to lunch or watch a movie when I showed up. First, I show up at the wrong time and now I act like I can only read and comprehend at a first grade level._

"You about finished?"

"Yes, ma'am." He tried to rush through the last few questions, then he turned in his paper.

Autumn quickly graded that while he waited quietly. "Okay, she said. "So based on your scores on the depression test, it looks as though you have moderate depression."

It felt like someone had hit him in the chest. He didn't want to have severe depression (or any depression at all for that matter), but he knew he did, so the fact that he answered eight questions and she was trying to tell him how he was feeling upset him. _If she doesn't even believe I'm depressed, then why the fuck am I even here? How could she possibly help?_

Mrs. Sobik was now holding up a chart that was on the back of one of the papers and pointed to one of the columns with the eraser end of her pencil. "...and your scores landed here under the ADD column, but they're still pretty high and come close to ADHD, so I'd say you're borderline."

 _What does that even mean? I don't even fucking understand._

She got through his moderate depression diagnosis in about ten seconds, but the ADD/ADHD explanation lasted for a couple minutes and left him even more confused. When she finished, she said, "Do you have any questions about that?"

"What does that mean?" he asked.

She looked vexed for a moment, then went on to repeat everything she just said as if hearing it all a second time would suddenly make it make sense to him. When she asked if he had anymore questions about his diagnoses, he said he didn't.

"Okay, let's move on. What made you decide to call and make an appointment with us, Drake?"

"I was in a mental hospital and they recommended that I see a counselor," he said.

Autumn picked up her pen and pulled a notebook in front of herself, then stared writing. "When were you in the mental hospital?"

"Last month."

"How long did you stay?"

"A little over a week."

"And you were there for your depression?"

"Yes, ma'am." He knew he should probably tell her about the suicide attempt, but he didn't feel like talking about it.

"Were you given any medications?"

"The doctor there gave me Effexor."

"Have you been taking your medication as prescribed?"

"I was, but I didn't really feel a difference, so I stopped."

She looked up from her notepad and Drake cowered under her gaze. "Antidepressants can take a month to get into your system and start kicking in."

"I gave it about a month," he said.

"I think you should've waited a bit longer."

He said nothing and she went back to writing. After a moment, she continued her questioning.

"So besides being told to by the hospital, are there any reasons why you're here?"

"Um, there's the depression and I've also been feeling really anxious. Sometimes I have panic attacks."

"Tell me about those. How do you feel when you're having one?"

He felt like she was asking him to describe it because she didn't believe he had actually suffered through one. Part of him knew he was just jumping to conclusions, but his brain was too worn out to fight the negative thoughts from taking over. After showing up at the wrong time, taking forever on a dumb quiz, having his depression brushed off like he was overreacting and then being diagnosed with a whole other disorder he'd never even thought about before, he was convinced that the rest of his session would go just as poorly. She hated him. He could tell.

"It just feels like I can't breathe," he said. "I can't really control myself. I start screaming or crying or both. Sometimes it's hard to remember what exactly happens."

"You _can_ control yourself during panic attacks," Autumn countered. "Towards the end of the session, I'll show you some tricks you can use."

He didn't like this response, but he tried to tell himself that it was because, whether he meant to or not, he didn't want to let go of his depression and anxiety. Maybe he was just as uncomfortable without it as he was with it. He could at least hear her out and give it a shot.

"Is there anything else you would like to add? What would you like to work on?" she asked. "What can I do to help you?"

Drake was quiet for a moment. Maybe he was misinterpreting the question, but it sounded like she was asking him how she should do her job. He didn't know what she was for. He only knew that she was supposed to help. He didn't know how. He didn't go to school for that shit and he wasn't getting paid to know how.

"Um, I guess...um..." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I just don't wanna feel this way anymore," he said vulnerably. "It's getting hard to deal with and I don't know what to do. I started using drugs so I didn't feel sad all the time."

"You abuse drugs?"

"I did."

"You don't anymore?"

"No, ma'am. I mean, I recently quit, but I'm really done for good."

"What drugs have you done, Drake?"

"Well, I really just had a problem with Triple C's."

"Triple C's," she repeated. "I'm not familiar with those."

"It stands for cold, cough and congestion."

"So cough syrup?"

"Kinda. But in pill form."

She scribbled silently for a few moments, then said, "Is that the only drug you've abused?"

"No, but it's the only one I had a problem with."

"What other drugs have you abused?" she persisted despite his attempts at evading the question.

"Weed, Xanax, computer duster, ecstasy, meth — nothing too crazy. I mean, I guess meth is pretty crazy, but I hardly ever did it and it really did nothing for me."

"You're lucky. Meth is _not_ something to be played with."

 _No fucking shit,_ he thought to himself. If only his tongue was as brave as his brain.

"Let's go back to these-" She looked at her notes. "...Triple C's."

He waited for her to say more or at least ask him something, but she didn't. "Okay."

"When did you start taking these pills?"

"When I was sixteen," he answered.

"And how many would you take?"

"Eight."

"Eight?!" Her eyes flashed with shock.

 _Jesus, if she thinks eight's bad..._ He tried to defend himself. "Eight's the magic number with Charlie."

"Charlie?"

"Triple C's," he corrected. "I called them Charlie sometimes. In order to get high off of them, you have to take at least eight."

"Surely, that's not true."

Drake was dumbfounded. She was sitting there telling him how to take his favorite cough medicine when she just said minutes ago that she was unfamiliar with them.

"It is. If you Google it and read through forums, you'll see that number a lot. You have to take eight. At least."

"At least?" she repeated, trying to imagine someone swallowing so many pills altogether like that. "You take all eight at the same time?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She made some notes. "When's the last time you used?"

"Today makes three weeks that I've been clean," he said with some pride, but he received no congratulations.

"Is this the first time you've tried to quit?"

"No, not at all," he said, "but this is the first time it's gonna stick."

"How long did your latest relapse last?" Mrs. Sobik questioned.

"Just a week." _Just_ a week. He was trying to make it sound like it wasn't so bad because he could already feel her judging him.

"How often did you use during that week?"

"Everyday."

"So you took eight pills everyday for seven days?"

"Well...no, ma'am. Not exactly. You see, I've been using for six years, so I've kinda built up a little bit of a tolerance."

"How many would you say you take on average?"

Drake's face was hot and he already felt embarrassed. He could picture her reaction. He could already see the judgement. "Forty-eight," he said meekly.

Her facial expression was even worse than what he pictured.

 _She hates me. She thinks I'm a lowlife piece of shit._ He felt so awkward that he gave off a short, nervous chuckle. _Dude, stop! What the fuck are you doing? She's gonna think you're fucking bragging._ The more he tried to get rid of the smile, the bigger it got. _Great. Fuck. So either she thinks I'm proud of it or she thinks I'm a habitual liar. Perfect._

"Have you never thought about the consequences that could happen by taking so many?" She said it almost like she was scolding him.

"I have, but I just decided it was a risk that I was willing to take. I'm so fucking depressed — I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm so depressed that I would be alright with dying." He was trying to steer the conversation back to the depression, which is why he'd come, but she continued talking about the Triple C's.

"So you have these pills and you sit there and swallow forty-eight of them. Then what?"

He wished he never would've brought this up. He could talk to Julio or Ricardo or literally anyone else about Triple C's for a short period of time and have no repercussions, but with Autumn and all the judgment and repulsion radiating off her face, talking about the Charlie high only made him want to take the pills right now.

"Then I wait," he said. "It takes about an hour for them to kick in. I kinda have a weak stomach, so I'll usually throw them up around that time and then—"

"Or maybe it's because you took so many pills," she almost snapped.

Drake went silent. He didn't think counselors were supposed to talk to their patients like this. He could understand that she didn't know what Triple C's were and yeah, eight sounds like a big number compared to how many you'd have to take to get high off other pills and forty-eight was pretty fucking insane. However, shouldn't she be better at hiding her disgust? She shouldn't even be expressing her surprise because it only shows how little her knowledge is on that specific subject and if she is unfamiliar, that's okay. He didn't mind answering her questions, but every time he gave her new information, she acted like he'd just taken a dump on her mom's head or something.

"Well, yeah," he replied. Obviously he was vomiting because he was taking so many. Sure, he was dumb, but he wasn't _that_ dumb.

"What happens after you throw up?"

He could feel his hot cheeks and his feverish face. He was salivating inside of his mouth and it tasted like the awful sugar coating on the pills, which made him nauseous. His throat was closing up like he was swallowing them down and he was feeling each one as his muscles forced them down his esophagus. Everything was so vivid and real that he threw up a bit in his mouth, then he swallowed it back down. His fingers were trembling and his teeth were chattering and his legs were bouncing.

"I don't really wanna talk about this anymore," he said.

"What happened just now?" The counselor noticed his sudden change.

"Can we talk about something else?"

Without taking her eyes off of him, she scribbled some more notes. He hunched over in his chair and restlessly rubbed his fingers through his hair. He was clearly struggling, so she granted his request.

"Why don't we discuss your childhood? Can you tell me about your family?"

Suddenly, Drake stood and rushed over to the door, where he'd spotted a miniature trash can. He leaned over and vomit spewed from his lips. If he had taken Triple C's, this would be where his high kicked in. Unfortunately, he hadn't taken any pills and he was puking for no beneficial reason. Autumn stood and left the room. When she returned, Drake was seated again. He leaned forwards like before and had his head resting on his hands as if he felt weak, but he was no longer fidgeting or trembling. He just looked calm and exhausted.

"Here." The woman placed a small plastic cup of water and a peppermint in front of him, then took her seat again. "How are you feeling?" she asked, but there was no response. "Drake? Could you answer my question?"

For a moment, he didn't move, but finally, he straightened and picked up the water whilst avoiding her eyes. "I'm okay," he said. "I'm sorry about that."

"That's okay," said Autumn. "I brought you a peppermint to get rid of the bad taste and maybe it'll help settle your stomach."

"Thank you." He picked it open and hung his head low as he unwrapped it.

"Unfortunately, Drake, it looks like we're a bit short on time."

He didn't care. He was ready to go home. He was so embarrassed and upset and he just needed to get the car back home before he took it to Ingles to get Triple C's.

"I would like to discuss a treatment plan. After what you told me today, I think it's best for you to come in once a week."

"Okay," he whispered weakly. He didn't give a fuck about anything she was saying at this point. He just wanted to leave.

"I would like to dig deeper into your drug use. I feel like that could be fueling the fire for your depression. You're not supposed to stop taking antidepressants cold turkey unless it's okay'ed by a doctor. If you do, you can end up in a state way worse than what you started in. I think that could have a lot to do with what's going on with you and I also think that your body is still flushing out the chemicals from the Triple C's. Your brain changed while you took those pills and now it's having trouble producing the dopamine and the serotonin on its own."

"That's not it," Drake argued desperately. He finally met her eyes. "I didn't start suddenly getting depressed within the past two weeks like your stupid tests are saying. I have felt like this everyday for years."

"I understand that, Drake, but when you decided to start abusing drugs, your brain chemistry changed and the Triple C's have a lot bigger affect than you're giving them credit for. You said you've relapsed several times over the years. You're stuck in a pattern. You get clean, then things become unbearable and you relapse again. What do you think would happen if you held off on using? What if the hardest part is that last hump you need to get over before your brain finally begins to heal itself?"

He didn't have the energy to argue. She was so stuck on the drug abuse that she couldn't see anything else...except maybe his out-of-the-blue diagnosis of ADD. To her, his depression was only moderate. She couldn't help him. Her job was to help people and she couldn't help him. She was a licensed professional. If she couldn't do it, then who could?

"Is that making sense, Drake?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, lowering his eyes again.

It was like being back at his father's the night he was almost killed. Just like back then, he was begging for help, but he wasn't getting it.

"Good," she said. "I would also like to dive into your childhood next week since we didn't get the chance to discuss that today."

An entire history of violent rape and physical torture and Drake didn't get the chance to even mention it.

"As I learn more about you over the next few weeks, we can begin to really work on tackling these issues," the counselor said. "Now I'm looking at my calendar. Do you have a specific day next week that you would like to meet?"

He shook his head absently. He was just trying to hold it together.

"What about Friday morning? Is that good for you?"

He nodded even though he knew he had a rehearsal that day. He wasn't fucking coming back here, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings by saying that. He'd have Ricardo call for him later and cancel the appointment.

"Okay, let's say...eight o'clock. How's that?"

"Okay."

"Would you like to write that down?"

"I'll remember it," Drake said.

"I would like you to write that down," she said in a more strict tone. "Your phone would be a good place. That way, you won't lose it."

The young man pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed the date and time in his notes. He showed her he did it when she asked and he felt like she was treating him like a child — like when your teacher checks your agenda at the end of the day to make sure you wrote down the homework like she said.

"One last thing," Mrs. Sobik said. "I give out homework to my patients each week. I think it's important for you to be sure you're working on yourself outside of this room as well. I have two things I would like for you to do. Can you write these down?"

Frustrated, he pulled his phone out again.

"First, I would like you to go to an NA meeting. Just see what it's like and maybe it'll feel right for you. I have a list for you of places you can check into." She went over to her filing cabinet and came back with another sheet. It had the names of places, addresses, phone numbers and the day of the week and time for each meeting. "Second, I would like for you to get a notebook and write down each time you feel like you want to use drugs. Make sure you write down what you may have been doing or thinking or seeing or feeling beforehand. When we go over it next week, maybe we'll see a pattern and figure out what triggers these cravings. Sound good?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, great. I think we're done here."

"What about the panic attacks?" he asked.

"It's all in your head, Drake," she said. "Try meditating. It works. You just have to..."

Her voice started to fade out and he felt his heart drop. _Meditation?! That was her big fucking advice?!_ He could hardly pay attention to all the other bullshit. She said something about a diet and exercise and sleep and burning some type of herb or plant or whatever. This entire fucking thing was a fucking waste.

"Anymore questions?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, let me show you out. Don't forget your paper."

Drake picked up the list of NA meetings and followed her down the hall and back into the main lobby. Before he even made it outside, he had tears falling down his face. He quickly walked to the car and got inside. One he closed the door, he broke.

 _It's fucking hopeless! No one can fix me! I'm going to be like this forever!_

All he wanted was to stop by the store and get those Triple C's and forget that this whole thing had ever even happened. He so badly wanted to numb himself from the constant pain and stress, if only for a few hours, but he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. He made a fucking promise. When Julio was upset about Hannah hating him, he sat outside a bar for hours, but did he drink? No. He took his depressed ass home and talked to Drake about it. That's how they dealt with shit now. No more running off and destroying themselves. Julio had set an example and if Drake went out and got fucked up, what kind of example was he setting? He wasn't just looking out for his own sobriety anymore. Julio depended on him, too. They depended on each other.

Therefore, instead of getting Triple C's, Drake picked up his phone and called Julio.

"Yo, what up? You done?"

He was crying so hard that he couldn't even speak.

Julio's voice suddenly became more serious and he expressed concern. "Drake? Hey, what's wrong?"

* * *

When Drake opened the front door, Julio was right there waiting for him. His friend immediately pulled him into a hug. "Hey," Julio said softly, rubbing the boy's back. "I'm sorry it didn't go well."

"It's okay," he choked out. A couple sobs left him before he was able to get ahold of himself, then he sniffled.

"Fuck that counselor, okay? She doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about. I think you've been doing an amazing fucking job getting control of your addiction. I don't care what she said. _I_ 'm fucking proud of you, alright?"

Drake nodded as he held on tighter. God, Julio was the best fucking friend he could ever ask for.

"We'll figure this out — me and you," the young man said. "You're not alone in this," Julio promised.

And Drake believed him.

* * *

"They're really good," Dee said as the song ended.

Julio spoke into the microphone so that Drake could take a drink of water. The audience screamed and cheered after every few sentences. Despite trying to be discreet as not to attract the old crowd, word got out that they were performing again and they saw a lot of familiar faces in the audience. Well, Julio did. Drake couldn't remember shit from their past performances. However, everyone was enjoying the music and no one's tossed a box of Triple C's up on stage yet, so all in all, it was going well.

"They really are," Ricardo agreed with pride in his voice.

Had the shit with Mr. Parker and drugs not been going on and if Drake would've showed up to that performance the talent scout came to that Stevie never forgave him for missing, then things probably would've been different. They wouldn't be standing here. They'd be in front of a gigantic crowd that went as far back as they could see. Ricky was sure of it. Still, this was pretty fucking great, too.

The two boys shared a look and Drake nodded his head as if to say he was ready. Julio nodded back and Drake gripped the microphone.

Drake: _**I see you when you're down and depressed, just a mess**_  
 _ **I see you when you cry, when you're shy, when you wanna die**_  
 _ **I see you when you smile, it takes a while, 'least you're here**_  
 _ **I see you, yes, I see you**_  
 _ **I'm alone with you, you're alone with me**_

Julio: _**I see you when you hide, and when you lie it's no surprise**_  
 _ **I see you when you run from the light within your eyes**_  
 _ **I see you when you think that I don't notice all those scars**_  
 _ **I see you, yes, I see you**_

Back in the old days, Julio didn't do much singing. He just did backup and then he took over if Drake got too fucked up to keep going. He had a beautiful voice, though, and it made his brother smile when he heard it.

Dee stood behind him and wrapped his arms around him and they both swayed to the soft melody. Julio was looking directly at Drake like he was singing only to him.

Julio: _**I'm alone with you, you're alone with me**_  
 _ **What a mess you've made of everything**_  
 _ **I'm alone with you, you're alone with me**_  
 _ **And I'm hoping that you will see yourself**_

Both: _**Like I see you**_  
 _ **Yes, I see you**_  
 _ **I see you**_  
 _ **Yes, I see you  
**_ Julio: _**I'm alone with you, you're alone with me**_

The two had come a long way together and they went through a lot of bullshit together, but they overcame that. No matter what, they had each others' backs. Even when the counselor didn't understand or when Hannah didn't understand, Julio understood and Drake understood.

Drake: _**I see you when you chase all the dreams inside your head**_  
 _ **I see you when you laugh and when you love 'til the bitter end**_  
Julio: _**I see you**_  
Drake: _**In the dark, at the dawn of something new**_  
 _ **I see you, yes, I see you**_  
 _ **I'm alone with you, you're alone with me**_  
 _ **And I'm hoping that you will see yourself**_

Both: _**Like I see you**_  
 _ **Yes, I see you**_  
 _ **I see you**_  
 _ **Yes, I see you**_

Again, Ricardo saw his two roommates look at each other like no one else was there. He couldn't even begin to express how proud he was of them and how happy he was with Julio, Drake and Dee. Everyone was getting along. Everyone was trying hard and everyone was offering help. He hoped things would stay like this forever.

As they sang their lines, everyone in that audience could tell what they were saying and who they were saying them to. Their realness only made the crowd love them more. No one knew about Julio's alcoholism, but everyone knew all of Drake's shit. They knew about the abuse. They knew about the drugs. Even though the song wasn't for them, they felt like they were apart of it, too.

Drake: _**Even when you cry and even when you're shy**_  
 _ **You mean everything to me**_  
Julio: _**Even when you lie and even when you're high**_  
 _ **You mean everything to me**_

Julio had switched up a word or two to specifically reference Drake's darker, drugged-out moments. It was unplanned and when the young man heard it, it touched his heart. Being the sensitive guy he was, he started weeping. He had never felt so loved before. He felt like everything would be okay...and if it wasn't, that was okay, too, because he and Julio were finally okay again and that was enough.

Drake: _**I see you**_  
Julio: _**(I see you, I see you, I see you)**_  
Drake: _**Yes, I see you**_  
Julio: _**(I see you, I see you, I see you)**_  
Drake: _**I see you**_  
Julio: _**Even when you cry and even when you're shy**_  
Drake: _**Yes, I see you**_  
Julio: _**(I see you, I see you, I see you)**_

Drake: _**I'm alone with you, you're alone with me**_  
 _ **And I'm hoping that you will see yourself**_

He sniffled and the crowd went wild. Even Ricardo and Dee yelled out. Drake felt a touch on his shoulder and turned to see Julio standing next to him. His friend suddenly pulled him into a tight embrace and he hugged back. This made his crying pick up.

"I love you," Julio said into his ear.

"I love you." He felt his friend rub his back as a way of offering him comfort. "You have no fucking idea how fucking thankful I am. You saved my fucking life."

It wasn't just Ricardo who put in work. Julio did a lot as well. Without him, Drake wouldn't have made it to where he was now. Either he'd be stumbling back and forth between Tad's and the truck stop, too strung out to remember his own name, or he'd be dead. Because of Julio, he was able to stand here and do something he loved with the people he loved.

"You saved mine," Julio said back.

He was right. Had Drake not showed up that day, right at that exact time, Julio would've choked on his own vomit and died. Being reminded of this made him remember how fragile life was and how it wasn't permanent. He knew that about himself, but he didn't often think of his loved ones dying because he always expected to die first.

Dee noticed that his boyfriend was shedding a few tears as well, so he squeezed him tighter and kissed his shoulder.

When Drake and Julio finally parted, Drake kept his head low. He couldn't fucking believe he was really out here crying in front of all these people.

"You okay?" Julio asked and his friend just barely heard him over the crowd.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Julio went back over to his mic and Drake turned back to his. This was the part where he was supposed to say something. What was he supposed to say after that? He was still wiping his eyes and sniffling. Normally, he would be embarrassed about this kind of thing, but not tonight. Not with Julio standing by his side and Ricardo standing in the crowd.

Finally, he broke his silence after another sniffled. "Shit."

The audience laughed, which made him chuckle, too.

He tried to give his eyes one last wipe, but more tears came, blurring his vision. "Fuck! Okay, gimme a second."

There was more laughter as he stepped back from the mic, but it was a good laughter. Drake used his entire shirt sleeve to wipe away the tears that were still falling.

Julio spoke up. "Alright, while Drake's over there having a cry-fest for one..."

More laughter. It got even louder when his friend replied by mouthing the words "Fuck you."

Julio smiled. "Anytime, buddy."

Dee heard Ricky chuckle through his tears.

"For real, though," Julio continued. "You guys all know about my friend's struggles with drug addiction. I always tried to be there for him, but I never understood him or why he did the things he did. You can't even begin to imagine the kinds of places it led him and how much it affected our friendship. Addiction doesn't just hurt the addict. Like they say, it's a family disease. It fucked with me. It fucked with my brother Ricardo." He pointed towards the man, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights as half the room looked at him, too. "Bruh, are you crying, too? Y'all some softies."

Ricky flipped him the bird and everyone laughed.

"I'm telling Mamá," the younger boy said and he received more laughter. "Anyway," Julio said, "I didn't know how to help Drake and honestly, I started hating him. I hated him for a long time and then I developed my own addiction issues. I became an alcoholic...and then this fucker decided _that_ was the right time to get clean, so he did that...and then he came back for me." He turned his eyes to Drake, who looked stunned and confused and appreciative all at the same time. "He carried the weight of both of our addictions until I was strong enough to do it myself. He's been clean for three weeks—"

Everyone cheered, but Ricardo hollered the loudest. Drake couldn't even begin to comprehend what was happening. Months ago, he stood on this very stage and they all wanted to see him destroy himself. Now they were proud of his strength. His dad had always called him weak and he knew now, without a doubt, that that wasn't true.

Julio paused until the noise level went down. "He's been clean for three weeks," he repeated, "and I've been sober for seventeen days, three hours, fourteen minutes and fifty-one seconds."

More cheers and more laughter erupted.

"None of that would've been possible without him." He looked at Drake again. "So I just needed you to know that. No matter what anyone's ever said to you — no matter what I've said to you — you matter. You deserve to be here just as much as anyone else. I know I'm only one person, but if you can't take my word for it, there's an entire room full of people here that agrees with me."

Just to prove it, the crowd erupted into the loudest roar of the night. All Drake could do was weep.

"I know it took a long time, but I get it now," Julio said, meeting his eyes. "I see you."

They heard claps and cheers and aww's. This actually went on for quite a while because Drake was too stunned to respond. Finally, he stepped back up to the microphone and everyone leaned closer with anticipation to see what he had to say.

"You're cheesy as hell, I swear to God!"

Julio picked up his water bottle and flung it at his friend, who yelped when it hit his ribs. "Don't make me kick your ass in front of all these people. You know I fucking will."

This, too, got cheers of encouragement, which made the two boys laugh.

Dee was the first to yell out for an encore and it quickly caught on. "ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE!"

The performers looked at one another, then shrugged.

"Fuck it," Drake said, to which the room responded with cheers.

Both took their places. Drake wiped his eyes and sniffled one last time. He and Julio locked eyes and gave each other a confirmation nod when they were ready, then the boy opened his mouth to sing.

Drake: _**I see you when you're down and depressed, just a mess**_  
 _ **I see you when you cry, when you're shy, when you wanna die**_  
 _ **I see you when you smile, it takes a while, 'least you're here**_  
 _ **I see you, yes, I see you**_  
 _ **I'm alone with you, you're alone with me**_

Julio: _**I see you when you're high, and when you lie it's no surprise**_  
 _ **I see you when you run from the light within your eyes**_  
 _ **I see you when you think that I don't notice all those scars**_  
 _ **I see you, yes, I see you**_

 _ **I'm alone with you, you're alone with me**_  
 _ **What a mess you've made of everything**_  
 _ **I'm alone with you, you're alone with me**_  
 _ **And I'm hoping that you will see yourself**_

Both: _**Like I see you**_  
 _ **Yes, I see you**_  
 _ **I see you**_  
 _ **Yes, I see you**_

* * *

 **Author's Note: Fuck, you guys! It's been forever! Life's been so hectic lately, but I finally pushed this out. This thing took me ten or eleven hours to edit for some reason. Geez. I don't ever remember previous chapters taking all day like this. I've literally been sitting in this chair forever, but finally this thing is ready to go.**

 **I didn't get any reviews last chapter, which sucks because that was my Julio chapter I was super stoked for. I would super appreciate if you took the time to drop a review and let me know what you think of everything so far or even just to tell me you're still here and reading. This chapter was so long and there was so much happening, I feel like, so lemme know what you think, please. Also, what do you guys think of the "Previously On _Sorry, Charlie_ " thing?**

 **Also, hope you guys had happy holidays. I was gonna ask everyone how it went and if they received any cool gifts, but that probably feelings like forever ago now. At least, it does for me.**

 **Songs Used In The Chapter For Anyone Who Cares:**

 **-Green Day: Longview** — (Drake's masturbation scene [You're welcome for making that awkward af.])  
 **-Call Me Karizma: Serotonin** — (Drake plays guitar before Ricardo interrupts)  
 **-Missio: Middle Fingers** — (Julio shows Drake a song)  
 **-D12: Purple Pills** — (kitchen rap)  
 **-2Pac: Hail Mary** — (kitchen rap part 2 after Ricardo apologizes)  
 **-Missio: I See You** — (band performance at Flux)

 **Again, please review. I've put a lot of time and work into this series and into this chapter alone and I'd greatly appreciate the encouragement or criticism. Okay, that's it for now. CCC ya! (P.S. I hope you guys are understanding that those three C's in my "see ya" goodbyes reference Triple C's because I thought that was clever as fuck).**


	15. Meet Charlie: Volume 2

**PREVIOUSLY ON SORRY, CHARLIE:**

 **Drake and Dahlia broke up. This led to a suicide attempt. He made a full recovery and became friends with Mrs. Hayfer along the way. Drake and Dee joined the _Rent_ musical production. During which, he relapsed and later admitted this to Ricardo. To earn back his trust, he allows the man to hold onto his money. He tried going to a counselor, but she only made things worse.**

 **In _Charlie Horse_ , Drake caused his mother to crash her car, leaving her without mobility of her legs for an uncertain amount of time. After dangerous gangsters broke in demanding the money Drake owed them, Walter forced him to leave and promise never to return. Mindy had developed a meth addiction, but overcame it with the help of Josh and the others in the Parker-Nichols family. She was pregnant with Drake's child and was expected to deliver any day. During the stress of the situation with the drug dealers, her water broke. She started bleeding and exclaiming that something was wrong with the baby.**

 **Now for the story...**

* * *

The venue was mostly empty except for a few stragglers. Mrs. Hayfer waited patiently for the three young, attractive ladies that were crowding around Drake to depart. She could tell that one in particular caught his eye, but she didn't realize it was because she kind of resembled Clementine in a way. Alice couldn't hear what was being said, but her former student would rotate between looking up at the girls briefly from where he squatted on the floor and putting his eyes on the band equipment and cords in front of his feet. He smiled a couple times and he laughed at something that was said and Mrs. Hayfer couldn't stop herself from thinking about that night at the truck stop when he'd cried while her husband kicked him out of the tractor. Drake's come a long way since that time in his life. She was so proud of the progress he's made since befriending her. She got to watch him grow to become a strong, loving, respectful young man and it was rewarding to see. She wished he'd never burned those bridges with his family. His mother would be proud, too.

The three girls started to walk away, so Alice moved towards him. Drake pulled his gaze away from his equipment and stared after the groupies — the Clem-clone in particular — to check them out, then he heard someone's throat clear. He turned his head and saw his former teacher, one of her eyebrows raised in both judgment and amusement. He immediately put his eyes back on the band equipment. Awkward.

"I'll pretend I didn't see that."

"You could've pretended without making it obvious you did."

"Eh, what's the fun in that?" She smiled when she heard him chuckle quietly. "The blonde's pretty cute, right?"

Drake stood as he wrapped up an auxiliary cord. "I'm not talking about this with you."

"What? I'm just saying!" the woman shrugged innocently, her smirk getting larger when she saw the musician smile. "She's cute!"

The boy shook his head as he continued wrapping the cord around his arm, but he couldn't help the toothy grin that broke out across his lowered face. "She's very cute," he agreed finally.

"Not gonna get her phone number?"

He just shrugged.

"Are you feeling okay?" she joked. "The old Drake wouldn't have let her just walk away like that."

He laughed. "The old Drake wouldn't be standing here talking to you either."

"Touché," she said. "Anyway, I just wanted to say that you guys were great tonight."

"Thank you."

"I can't tell you how long it's been since I've been to a concert and I'm probably the oldest person here, but I had a lot of fun. Well, I wore myself out quite a bit jumping around trying to keep up with all these young folks on the first song, so I had to go sit at the bar and rest my legs the rest of the time, but it was fun."

"That's good. I'm really glad you came," he said genuinely.

"I'm glad you and Julio worked things out. I think you two really needed each other and you both have a good chemistry that works on and off stage. The audience was going crazy for it."

"They probably think we're gay for each other now."

"You're not?" Alice feigned shock and this made Drake laugh. "I'm kidding. No, it's cute. I think it's great. There's a certain way society expects men to act and you're breaking the norms. You're showing everyone that it's okay not to look so tough all the time. Men cry, too. Men feel, too, and a lot of the time, they're too embarrassed to get the help they need, so I think it was great. I do have one _minor_ suggestion, though."

Drake furrowed his brows, but he didn't know why he was surprised. She was a teacher. Of course she had feedback.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Maybe try to ease up on the swearing."

The boy laughed. His eyes were still wet from earlier and they sparkled when he smiled. "They love it, though. You heard how they react."

"I know, I know," she said. "I just thought I'd mention it. You're a role model to some of these people."

"A role model?" He was visibly confused and he even snorted at the notion. "No, I'm just playing music. I'm not trying to be anyone's role model."

"I know you're not trying to, but you have a platform and when you have a platform like this, people are gonna listen to what you have to say. Whether you want the responsibility or not is irrelevant. These kids are looking up to you," said Alice. "You just have to decide who you want them to see."

This was something he had never before thought about and he wasn't quite sure he believed it. He stayed quiet because he was trying to figure this out in his head. He couldn't picture anyone actually listening to the shit that came out of his mouth and taking it seriously. Was Mrs. Hayfer exaggerating or did his audience mirror his behavior whenever they left this room? If they did, how many young people did he inadvertently lead to addiction when he was getting fucked up on stage all those years ago? How many lives has he ruined that he didn't even know about? He never meant any harm, but looking back on it, he definitely promoted the use of drugs by not only singing about them, but also doing them right in front of everyone. He'd made it look cool and fun. Of course people were going to want to do it, too.

"It's just something to think about. I can't tell you what to do. It's your audience and you're right. They love the foul language. I just wanted you to realize that you've got eyes on you now — young eyes," Alice said. "Anyway, I've gotta be heading on home. It's way past my bedtime."

"Thank you for coming out and supporting us," Drake said.

"Of course." She accepted the hug he gave her. "I would love to come again if you and Julio decide to keep this up. Let me know, okay?"

"I will."

"I'll see you Saturday?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She offered him a smile before she went and Drake went back to taking shit apart. He and Stavros had already knocked out most of the clean-up, so this was all that was left. His band mate was hanging around somewhere being talked up by some girls and who knows where Ricardo and Dee had disappeared to? They all said they'd help, but they must've gotten held up or distracted. Drake didn't mind. He actually liked this part. This is when he had time to go over the night in his head.

When he finished rolling up the wires, he picked them all up, along with the amplifier, then carried them out back, where Stavros had his van parked. The man took the cords and put them in a box while Drake lifted the amplifier and put it into the back of the van.

"That's the last of it?" Stavros asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Thanks for doing drums for us."

Their guest player closed the door, then looked at Drake. "Thanks for inviting me to play with you guys. I had a lot of fun. If you need someone to fill in again or need a permanent drummer or keyboardist or anything, I'm always down."

"Cool. Julio and I haven't really talked about this becoming a regular thing again, but if it does, I'm sure he would love to have you join just as much as I would. You're really fucking talented. No wonder he replaced me with you when he kicked me out of the band.

Stavros chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Don't be so modest. You fucking rock."

"Thanks," he smiled almost shyly. He was much more humble than he used to be. Doing the humiliating shit he had done within the last few years could do that to a guy.

"And hey, congrats on the sobriety. That's fucking awesome."

His smile got bigger. "Thank you."

"I'm gonna double-check just to be sure we got everything. You guys sure you don't mind me dropping this off tomorrow?"

"No, it's okay."

"Thanks. It's just so late and my girl's probably off work waiting for me now. I promise I won't steal your shit. You guys know where I live and you got those two big ass bodyguards with you all the time." He was referring to Ricardo and Dee, which made Drake laughed.

"They're both just big softies," he said.

"Well, I'm not willing to risk it," he said with a laugh. "Alright, I'll be right back. Keep an eye on the van for me?"

"Yeah."

Stavros went back inside using the back entrance. Drake took this time to smoke a cigarette and reflect on the amazing experience he'd just shared on stage. Usually, he felt ashamed and embarrassed about his addiction, but things had been different tonight. When Julio started to openly talk about it in front of the entire room, he didn't mind it. Of course, they already knew about it, but still, something was different. Last time, he tried not to acknowledge it at all and then it was forced out of him when the box of Triple C's was tossed at his feet. This time, everyone was respectful and they seemed genuinely happy for him. It wasn't something he was used to and it gave him a kind of rush.

Just then, he heard a sound behind him like footsteps and thought the guys were coming to make sure no further help was needed loading the van. Instead when he turned around, he saw four unfamiliar faces. He didn't even have time to offer a friendly smile or anything before the closest one wound his fist back and punched him so hard that it knocked him off his feet.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed, cupping his busted nose.

All that was said was, "Let's fuck him up," then they were surrounding him, kicking him from all directions.

"Stop!" he screamed with confusion, then he cried out in pain. He turned over onto his stomach and started to crawl away, but someone grabbed his ankles and snatched him back. As he was dragged across the concrete, his shirt rode up and his belly got scraped. "Stop!" he tried again, then he was kicked so hard that he was flipped over. He looked up at his attackers wondering if maybe he did know them and just forgot. He did this kind of thing a lot. However, he didn't get too good of a look because he squeezed his eyes closed and screamed through clenched teeth when a foot collided with his ribs harder than before.

They ceased after a couple more kicks, then the one Drake perceived as the leader leaned over him and snatched him into a sitting position by his shirt collar. He punched him in the face once...twice...three times. That's when it started happening. That's when he started going back to his father's. He had to fight back. He felt around the asphalt for a rock or something. He wouldn't normally go for a weapon, but it was four against one and that was totally unfair. He found no rock, but he did burn himself on the cigarette he'd dropped. He picked it up and pressed it against the stranger's skin.

"Ow! The fucker burned me!"

One more punch left him flying back and his head hit the concrete. His vision was blurred due to a mixture of his dizziness and his tears. As it cleared up, he didn't see four young guys. Instead, he saw one scary fucking dad.

"Don't," he begged with a shaky voice.

Pissed off, the leader reached down and picked up the cigarette. "Hold him down."

Suddenly, Drake felt an arm being grabbed, then the other. They were tightly held against the road so that he couldn't move them — same with his legs. When he felt that weight on top of him, he lost it. He knew he was going to be turned over and raped. To further solidify his prediction, his dad reached down and started unbuckling his belt.

"DON'T!" Drake screeched. He was full-on sobbing now and he shook so much that each of the guys who were pinning him down felt the vibrations travel up their arms. "DON'T! DON'T! DON'T!" He felt his jeans and boxers being yanked down to his knees, leaving his private region exposed. "Please! Please!" he whined, but when did his dad ever listen to him?

The leader of the crew lowered the cigarette and pressed the burning end against one of Drake's testicles. The boy screeched with pain.

"Help! Help! Please! Please!" He wiggled and fought, but he couldn't get a single limb free. He sobbed even louder. "Sto-o-op! Please, stop!" Even when he closed his eyes, he could see that menacing alligator smirk his father always gave him.

"How do you like that, huh?! Not so tough now, are you?!"

"Please, please, please!" he begged. The pain only got worse and worse the longer the cigarette was held against one of his balls.

"Say you're sorry! SAY IT!"

"I'm sorry," Drake sobbed, the pain so immense that he would've said just about anything right now. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Jesus, dude," one of the others said. "C'mon, that's enough."

Finally, the cigarette was pulled away, but the young man couldn't tell the difference.

"Eat it!" the leader said, forcing the cigarette in between Drake's lips. Once it was in, he held his hand over the boy's mouth so he couldn't spit it out.

The fire burned his tongue, then his cheek, then the roof of his mouth.

"EAT IT!"

"HEY!" It was Ricardo. He, along with Dee and Julio, were rounding a corner to the back of Flux.

Suddenly, the weight lifted off of Drake and he could move again. The boys bolted and it was only seconds later when Ricardo flew right past Drake. Dee wasn't far behind. Julio stayed back and squatted down next to his friend, who was trembling like all hell. The victim tried to sit up, but couldn't. He spat the cigarette out, but it just rolled down to his neck. Julio brushed it away before it could burn him too badly, then his friend screamed again at the touch to his neck as if he feared being strangled.

"It's okay! It's me! It's me! It's Julio!" he said. "Drake, do you know where you are?"

He could tell that he was laying in the street, but at the same time, he could see those familiar basement walls closing in on him. He shook his head with pitiful confusion and his fingers trembled with fear.

"We're right outside of Flux. Four guys jumped you. It wasn't your dad, okay? He's not here." He felt horrible when he saw the boy shaking like all hell. Screams filled the alleyway up ahead and Julio looked up to see that his brother had gotten ahold of one of the attackers and was beating the shit out of him. He saw that these noises only put Drake on edge even more. "Can I help you pull up your pants? Is that okay?" He waited until he had permission, then he pulled up his friend's boxers and jeans.

"My fucking balls hurt!" Drake complained as he clutched his groin.

"We'll get some ice, okay?" His heart broke as his friend sobbed. "Let me get some from the kitchen, okay?" He started to stand, but his wrist was grabbed.

"Please don't leave me alone," the boy begged. Despite Julio explaining the situation to him, he could go back to his dad's basement at any time.

"Okay. Okay, I won't. I'm not going anywhere." Julio looked around for help. He thought about calling out to Dee, but Dee was busy trying to peel his boyfriend off of Drake's attacker. "Shit!" It was then that the back door opened and he saw Stavros. "Get some ice!" he barked.

"What the-"

"Go!"

Stavros disappeared inside and wasted no time. He was back out in under two minutes. "Here!" He passed Julio a Ziplock bag full of ice.

"Okay, Drake, I'm gonna unzip your pants, okay?" He waited until his friend nodded before he did this, then he carefully slid the bag inside.

"Ahhh!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"What the fuck did they do to him?!" Stavros asked.

Julio was too busy watching the fight that was taking place at the end of the alleyway. "He's gonna kill him," he mumbled. He sounded serious and Stavros started to panic. "Drake, I'll be right back, okay?"

"No..."

"Stavros is right here. He's gonna stay with you." He looked at the man. "Right?"

"Yeah, of course." He squatted down next to Drake and then Julio took off.

As he approached the chaotic scene, he saw that Dee was trying desperately to pull Ricky off of the guy who had pinned down Drake's feet. Julio cringed when he heard the sound of bones cracking, followed by screaming.

"GAAHH! MY FUCKING ARM!"

"Ricardo!" Dee was yelling. "That's _enough_!"

"Bro, stop!" Julio demanded as he helped his brother's boyfriend pull the raging man away.

"Please! I'm sorry!" the guy was saying as he sobbed just as hard as Drake was sobbing.

Ricardo was being dragged away, so he started cursing rapidly in Spanish and although the guy on the ground couldn't understand, he was fucking terrified.

"It wasn't us! It wasn't us! We were paid to do it!" he admitted, which shocked Julio.

"By who?!"

"I don't know," he cried. "I don't know. Please."

"BY WHO?!" Julio demanded.

"I don't know! She's skinny and blonde and really cute! She has a British accent! Like, she's European or something! I don't know her name! Please!"

They didn't need a name. They knew who it was. Ricardo and his brother locked eyes and they both said it at the same time. "Dahlia."

* * *

When Drake hissed, Julio said, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He continued to dab at the blood underneath his friend's nose, but more gently this time.

Drake was sitting in the bath in cold water as his roommate cleaned off his face. He kept having to rotate between sitting _in_ the tub and sitting _on the edge_ of the tub because the constant cold was burning his wound just as much as not having any coolness on it at all. His eyes were bloodshot because of his crying, so they matched the rest of his bloodied face.

"I don't understand," he choked. He seemed more hurt by the fact that his ex fiancée had set him up like this than by the actual physical pain, although he was in _a lot_ of physical pain.

"I know."

"Why would she do this?" he asked with vulnerability and obliviousness. However, he knew why. He'd fought back. He'd stood up to her and he shouldn't have. "She knows how I react. She knows w-what happens when someone touches me — when they hold me down like that. How could she just let that happen?"

Julio didn't have an answer for this. Dahlia wasn't fucking human. Drake was right. She knew exactly how he would react. She purposely triggered his PTSD so that he'd relive some horrible experience his father had put him through. Julio couldn't imagine ever doing this even to his worst enemy, which was Dahlia. Even after this, he wouldn't dream of doing it to her if given the opportunity. That's just something you don't fucking do.

"I've gotta get up. It's fucking burning."

Julio had to help him stand after the beating he was given, but he kept his eyes up until Drake covered himself with a towel.

"God, I'm so fucking embarrassed."

"Don't be embarrassed. No one was there. Me and my brother and Dee — you know none of us would ever think anything bad about you because of this and Stavros is cool as fuck. I don't think you need to worry about him."

"When you left to get Ricky, he was really nice to me," Drake said. "He talked to me and tried to calm me down."

Julio stood and went over to the sink, then he washed the blood out of the rag and wrung the excess water out. He brought it back to his friend and continued carefully dabbing at the blood. "They really fucked up your face, dude."

"I think he was wearing rings." This was another thing to be embarrassed about. "God, and I have fucking rehearsals tomorrow. This is the second time I'm gonna be walking in there covered in bruises." The first time was when Julio had beaten him up for refusing to give him his car keys. "They're gonna think... I don't know what they're gonna think."

"It's not their business. Tell 'em that."

"I can't do that."

"I know. You're too nice," Julio said. "Maybe you can call out a couple days? Just until the swelling goes down and you can cover the bruises with make-up. That's what you used to do, right?"

"I can't call out. Opening day isn't that far away and I wanna get as much practice in as possible because I don't wanna fuck up in front of a bunch of people." He sighed. "Fuck it. I'll just tell them I was jumped."

"Well, it's the truth."

"I know. I guess it's just weird because I've used that excuse way too many times in the past."

"None of these people are gonna know that. They'll believe you."

Drake was quiet for a moment other than another hiss of pain.

"Shit! Sorry!"

After a few moments, he meekly asked, "Was that guy Ricky got ahold of okay?"

Julio hesitated to answer. "Not really. My brother fucked him up. I think he broke his arm."

"Shit."

"You shouldn't feel bad for him. He deserved what he got."

There was more silence before Drake softly admitted, "Ricky kinda scared me."

"Yeah, me, too."

"Dee was pissed."

"Yeah. He's not used to seeing my brother like that. I mean, I'm not either. It may have happened a couple times before, but he hasn't been that angry since he got with Dee. He really lost control."

"I've gotta get back in." The burning was getting worse and it was time to cool it off. He could get in on his own; it was just getting out that really hurt his battered ribs.

"Well, before you do that — like, this doesn't have to be weird, but I think I should check and make sure it doesn't look like you need to go to the hospital."

"You tryna sneak a peek?"

Julio rolled his eyes. "Alright, fuck it, but if you have to get one of your balls removed because it got infected or something, don't come crying to me."

"Okay, fine." Drake turned carefully and tried to cover as much as possible with the towel. "Just don't touch it."

"I'm not gonna...!" The notion was so fucking stupid that he couldn't even finish his sentence. He looked at his friend with a dead stare.

"Well," the boy said defensively with a shrug. Drake couldn't even look at him while Julio visually examined the wound. He kept his eyes on the ceiling with obvious discomfort. He felt like a long time had gone by, so he spoke up. "I mean, shit, Julio, are you trying to draw a picture of it while you're down there or something?"

"The lighting is so shit in here." He moved to the side as an attempt to not cast a shadow.

The exposed young man gave it a few more seconds. "Is it bad? Are they gonna have to remove it?"

"I don't... It looks bad, but I think it'll heal," said Julio, then he pulled out his phone. "Let me google what to do."

"You're just _now_ doing that?"

"Hey, you want my fucking help or not?"

Drake closed his mouth then. He knew his friend would help him either way, but he also knew he could be very rude and demanding when he was in pain and he didn't want to give Julio a hard time. This wasn't his fault.

"After you get out, it says to put a cold compress on it for about ten minutes at a time. It says not to use ice, but we don't have a cold compress. I guess it just means not to put the ice directly on the skin, so we'll have to wrap it in something." He skimmed through the web page. "It says to use aloe vera cream. My brother'll probably figure that out."

"Has he said how much longer he'll be?"

Julio shook his head. "It says not to pop any blisters if they come up."

"Blisters?! Oh, fuck," he whined nervously.

"Maybe there won't be any. It just says _'if.'_ Don't be rubbing it or scratching it or anything."

He was still picturing the blisters with worry. "This sucks."

"Don't use anti-itch cream..." Julio mumbled. "Keep the burn area out of sunlight..."

"Great, I guess I can't go outside and whip my dick out," he said sarcastically.

"Dude, calm down."

"Yeah, that's easy for you to say when you're not sitting there with your fucking balls on fire!" Drake snapped, then he immediately felt bad. He sighed and lowered his head. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you. I'm just embarrassed. I appreciate you being here. I really do."

"I know. It's okay."

"Can I get back in now?"

"Yeah." Julio nodded.

The young man clenched his jaw as if that would lessen some of the pain in his torso. He eased himself down into the water and took comfort in the coolness on his burn. Silence took over the bathroom as Julio continued to read and Drake got stuck in his head. He still felt guilty about being such a prick, so he tried to keep his complaints to a minimum and he did, but only because he started thinking about his father and his threat to burn him alive. He tried to imagine how that would've felt when he was currently losing his shit over one small wound.

"You know," he said, breaking the silence after a few minutes, "that night...back at my dad's..."

This grabbed his friend's attention and he looked up from his phone.

"...he made me guess how he would...how he would do it. I..." He shook his head as if he was reliving the scarring moment. "I was crying and I was begging. I couldn't think straight. I just kept picturing myself dying over and over and over again...a hundred different ways...trying to figure out how much pain each way would cause and how long each would take." His eyes watered over, but he managed to keep his tears back. "He said he was gonna make a noose and force me to hang myself, but he wasn't gonna let it break my neck or anything. He wanted me to really suffer. I was so scared. I remember watching this ghost hunting show with him when I was little and they were investigating this prison where this guy was executed by hanging, but something went wrong and he didn't die immediately. He dangled there for, like, fifteen minutes or something...just gasping for breath. I kept thinking that that's what was gonna happen to me."

As he spoke, Julio's eyes involuntarily moved downwards. He couldn't help but stare at each scar left on his friend's body that night. He couldn't even begin to imagine the physical pain they had caused, much less the mental pain.

"And then he said," the boy continued, looking straight ahead at the tub wall as if he were watching the memories play back right in front of him like a film, "that just before I took my last breath, he was gonna set me on fire and let me burn. He spat vodka on me and..." He couldn't stop his voice from cracking when he said, "I really thought..." He dropped his head as he focused on keeping his tears back. He'd cried enough for one day.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you," Julio said in a serious and somber tone. "It's fucked up and you didn't deserve it. I can't even... _begin_ to imagine what you were feeling and I know it makes you sad when you think about him being gone, but...look at me."

Drake didn't at first, but he knew Julio wouldn't take no for an answer.

"He _is_ gone. He can never hurt you again. He can never make you feel that way again. You understand me?"

He nodded, then he hung his head again. There were still no tears, but Drake did sniffle.

 _Knock! Knock!_ "Hey, I'm back," Ricardo called from the other side of the door.

"I'll be out in a bit," Julio said back.

The boy in the bathtub spoke up. "It's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be right back, okay?" After Drake nodded, he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

"How's he doing?"

"He's pretty upset. They triggered his PTSD and he's telling me about shit his dad did to him."

Ricardo shook his head, clearly tense and still enraged.

"Did Dee go home?"

"No, he's in my room," Ricardo said. "He's really pissed at me."

"I think you just scared him. You scared all of us."

"I know. I don't know what comes over me sometimes. It's like I black out or something, but I don't. I'm aware of what I'm doing and I just can't stop it." He seemed to regret how scary and aggressive he was, but not what he'd done to one of the guys who had attacked his friend. "I might've killed him if you two hadn't pulled me off of him. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me."

"Maybe you should look into anger management classes or something." He could see that the man wasn't too fond of this idea. "I don't know. Or something. I don't wanna get a phone call from you saying you're in jail for losing control and really hurting someone. Drake tried counseling. I've been going to AA meetings. Now it's your turn to do something about your anger."

Ricardo sighed. "Okay. I'll try to figure something out — something other than anger management classes." He redirected the conversation back to his injured roommate. "Did Drake let you look at his burn?"

"Yeah, it's not good, but I don't think he'll have to go to the hospital."

The man held out the plastic bag in his hand. "I got some cream. Google said aloe vera."

Julio nodded as he took the bag and noticed that there was more in it than the tube of cream.

"I got him a candy bar, too, because — I don't know — I like to eat candy bars when I'm sad."

This made his younger brother smile. "I'll tell him."

"Let me know if he needs anything else." He was stalling and Julio knew this.

"We'll be alright. Go work things out with Dee."

The two separated. Ricky went towards his bedroom and Julio went back into the bathroom. He saw Drake clearly in pain as he lifted himself up with his arms.

"I need out," the young man said.

"Oh, shit. Yeah, okay." Julio helped him sit down on the edge of the tub again.

"Thanks."

"Ricky got the aloe vera—" He got it out of the bag, then he pulled out a Snickers. "—and a candy bar for if you're sad, he said."

Drake accepted the Snickers appreciatively. He opened it, then held it out so that his friend could break off half.

"Nah, I'm good." He sat down on the edge of the tub and looked down at the tube in his hand, reading some of the bright-colored key words on the front. "Are you about to get out for good or you wanna wait a while before putting this on?"

"I wanna stay in here a little bit longer if that's okay." It's already been about forty-five minutes of constantly switching back and forth between getting in and out of the tub and he felt bad that Julio had to stay here and help him.

"No, take your time," he said, reading the directions now to see how often Drake needed to apply the cream.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Drake ate his chocolate and Julio was checking his Facebook notifications, which were mostly for photos or videos from their gig tonight that he had been tagged in. He read through some of the comments to see what the overall consensus was and people seemed to really like the show. He was grateful that things had gone so well. After what had happened last time, he was worried how the audience would react to Drake's appearance and honestly he was nervous about being in a place with a full bar, but everything ended up going smoothly. He didn't drink and his sobriety partner didn't get high.

Drake crinkled up the candy wrapper when he finished, then he tossed it towards the mini trash can and missed due to the lightness of the paper. "Shit," he mumbled to himself.

Julio turned towards him when he heard movement and saw his friend getting back into the tub. "You got it?"

"Yeah." He winced slightly when the muscles on his bruised back flexed, but other than that, he got in just fine. "Why don't we ever buy chocolate?"

The young man had already went back to his phone, so he didn't quite catch what Drake had said. He turned to him. "Hmm?"

"Why don't we ever buy chocolate? Or candy in general?"

"I don't know. No one ever writes it on the list."

"We should. Pretty sure it just cured my depression."

This made Julio chuckle airily through his nose. "I think you were just hungry. Didn't you skip dinner?"

This was true. He didn't want to eat and then get nervous about performing and throw up on stage. "Seriously, everything that happened today — I'm over it. Fuck that counselor. Fuck those guys. Fuck Clem. The gig was fun and you said a bunch of nice shit and they're not gonna ruin that moment for me."

"That's good."

"It was really nice, by the way. Everything you said."

"And I meant it."

"Cool. I wasn't really crying, though. That was just an act."

Julio snorted. "Fuck outta here."

* * *

 _(6 days later)_

"You doing okay?" Ricardo asked his younger brother. He had to yell over the loud music that was playing at the gay nightclub just so that he could be heard.

"It's different," he admitted. "I just don't want anybody to touch me."

"Being gay doesn't mean we're gonna go around touching people without permission," the man said.

Julio saw that he was offended. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm being ignorant. I'm sorry."

It was less than five months ago that Ricardo had opened up about his sexuality and, before that, the only time Julio had been around gay guys was when Drake hung out with Gemini or Rhinestone or Sawyer. He had mixed feelings about the first two because they could be pretty conniving and Drake's admitted that Rhinestone actually has tried to cop a feel on a couple occasions, but Sawyer was pretty dope. There was a lot of femininity running around and it wasn't something he was used to, but he was willing to learn. He wanted to have an open mind and understand his brother.

"Dee's pretty late," Ricky stated. The club scene was new to him as well, so he, too, was feeling uncomfortable.

"It's his birthday. He's allowed to be late," said Julio. "Is he just picking that guy up and that's it?"

Dee was a personal trainer. He had been working with a guy for many months now and they had become good friends, so he'd invited him out to his birthday celebration and was stopping by his house to pick him up now.

"Yeah."

"Is that weird?" the youngest asked. "Him bringing another guy?"

"He said his friend is straight."

Julio trusted Dee, so if Dee said his friend was straight, he believed him. He could tell Ricardo wasn't bothered by it either.

"Where did Drake run off to?" Ricky questioned.

"Who the hell knows?"

Unlike them, their friend didn't seem at all uncomfortable to be here.

"I thought he was supposed to stick with you," the man said.

"I don't need a babysitter."

"I know. It just..." He sighed. "I'm a little concerned, alright? I mean, are you sure coming here was a good idea?"

"I'm not gonna drink," Julio assured.

"Me neither."

"Ricardo, you can drink. I'm not gonna get upset."

"I'm driving," was his excuse.

"Drake can drive. He said he wouldn't drink since I can't. It's Dee's birthday. Let loose. Have fun."

He didn't respond, but he was opening up to the idea.

"Hey," Drake said, squeezing through the crowd to get to his friends. "Dee's still not here?"

"Where have you been?" the oldest asked.

"Just around. Hey, can I have some of my money?"

"How much?"

"Just, like, ten dollars."

Ricardo's eyebrow lifted with stern curiosity. "For what?"

"Just..." He could tell his roommate knew he wanted to buy ecstasy. "C'mon, Ricky, don't be a buzzkill. Please."

"It's not a good idea."

"It's not a big deal! We can all do it. I'll buy you some, too. This guy said he'll give me two for the price of one if I make out with him."

"Jesus!" Julio exclaimed.

"What?" the boy said defensively. "I was getting one for you." He actually wasn't. He'd planned on taking both, but one was better than none. He couldn't drink and he's never been to a club sober.

"You've been here for fifteen minutes and you're doing this already?" his friend called him out. "Drake...come on. What the fuck, bruh?"

Drake could see the disappointment on his face. He wasn't wrong, though, but he couldn't stand being around a bunch of geeked up people and not be geeked up himself. He didn't know how to have fun here without being messed up. What was the harm anyway? It's not like he was sucking dick or actually prostituting or anything. It's just a couple minutes of lip action, so really, these guys were freaking out for no reason.

"I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong," the young man said. "I mean, I'll pay for two if it's that big of a deal to you. I'm just trying to have fun and spend as little as possible."

"That'll be easy," Ricardo said, "because I'm not giving you the money."

He wanted to argue, but he knew he wouldn't win against Ricky, so he groaned like a moody teen and stormed off.

"And I'm the one who needs the babysitter," Julio said, then he looked over at his brother. "You know he's just gonna make out with him, right?"

"What the hell is wrong with him?" the older one said.

"I think he's struggling with his sobriety."

"He said that?"

"No, but he's been acting differently since last week."

"Because of what those assholes did to him?"

Maybe Drake was feeling insecure about himself now that he had a giant scab on one of his testicles. Maybe this was his way of feeling validated. Maybe this was a result of his PTSD being triggered. Maybe he needed male approval since his father wasn't around.

"I don't know, maybe," Julio said. "I think it's more because of how that appointment with the counselor went. I think he feels like no one can help him and he just wants to get fucked up again."

"That's just fucking great."

"You ever think...I don't know — maybe he's bipolar?"

"All the time."

"No, like _really_ bipolar," he said. "Not even two weeks ago, he couldn't get out of bed. Now he's out here doing this shit...and he doesn't even know why."

"I don't know much about it, to be honest," Ricardo said. "I mean, I know it involves mood swings."

"Since we've been hanging out so much lately, I've been looking into it and it kinda explains some things. When you're bipolar, you rotate between feeling really high ups and really low downs. When he's down, he skips past sad and goes straight to suicidal. When he's up — see that's the part I don't understand. I don't think there are times when he's ever not sad, but moving out and proposing after a week is the kind of manic behavior someone with bipolar disorder would do," said Julio. "And then there's this. Like, this doesn't make any sense unless he's lying to us about not being gay."

"You think we can convince him to go to a psychiatrist and try meds again?"

The young man sighed. "I don't know. It'll be tough. I don't think he has faith in doctors anymore after that counselor said he only had moderate depression."

"I guess we'll worry about that later. Lemme go stop him before someone gives him drugs."

Julio went with him to be an extra set of eyes, but they ended up running into Dee first. He and his boyfriend greeted each other with a kiss.

"I tried to call you, but I figured you couldn't hear your phone ring in here."

"No, I didn't even feel it vibrate," his boyfriend said. "Where's your friend?"

"Bathroom."

"Okay. Can you give me a second? I have to find Drake really quick."

"Sure. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. You know. He's just back on his bullshit."

"Ah." Dee nodded with understanding. "Okay. When he gets out of the bathroom, we'll come catch up with you."

They separated. The place was so crowded that it took him and Julio five minutes to find him and, of course, he was kissing some dealer. The younger boy hung back and let his brother handle it. While he watched from a distance, he noticed Dee coming his way out of the corner of his eye. With him was his mystery friend and Julio immediately recognized his familiar face.

"Oh, shit..."

Ricardo squeezed his way past people. He was tall and muscular, so most of the crowd moved for him. He excused himself and apologized on repeat until he was just a few feet away from his destination. Drake was no longer locking lips with the stranger. Instead, they were just talking and the guy he was with was clearly crushing on him. Ricky could tell by the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled up at him. He started to hold out his hand and that's when Ricardo finally reached them.

"Give him those pills and I will break your fucking hand." He spoke with dominance and he knew this voice could scare just about anybody.

Drake was irritated when he saw him. "Ricky, fuck off!"

However, the man wasn't looking at Drake. He was eyeing the ecstasy-holder. He was small and thin like the addict he had been making out with, which meant he was no match for Ricardo. Mere seconds passed before the dealer began to cower.

"If I catch him high, it'll be your ass. Back off," he demanded strictly.

The supplier obeyed.

"Ricky!" Drake exclaimed. "What the hell is your problem?!"

"My problem?! Are you fucking serious?!"

"You act like I'm out here trying to score heroin or something! It's fucking ecstasy! I've done it plenty of times! I've done it with _you_ plenty of times! I don't know why you're making a big deal about this!"

"Because, Drake!" he yelled back and luckily it was so loud in the building that they hadn't caused a scene. "I don't understand why you're being like this! Are you that desperate to get high?!"

"I'm just trying to have fun! You're overreacting!"

"Overreacting?! Drake-" He managed to calm himself. Although he didn't think anyone was listening to them, he didn't want to loudly air out their dirty laundry. "I know you're just kissing some guy and it seems innocent and all, but have you stopped to think about why you're doing it? It's not to have fun. It's because you wanna use drugs. It's a form of payment. You're doing that same shit again. It always starts out seeming innocent, right? Then before you know it, you're on the streets and completely off the grid."

He was calling him a prostitute in the kindest way he knew how and it actually made the boy stop and think rather than respond angrily.

Ricardo continued. "Look, I don't think taking those pills right now is a good idea. I get it. Believe me, I do. You've never had a problem with them before, so why not, right? I can't stop you from doing it and if you really wanna do it that bad, I'll give you your money, but I don't want you to use your body to get what you want because you're better than that. You've gotta get out of that habit. You think people only wanna use you for sex, but that's how _you_ are presenting yourself. If you want them to see you for something other than an easy lay, then fucking act like it. This is why you feel so shit about yourself. You don't even know what you're worth."

The last few times he was here, he'd always ended up with someone's dick in his mouth. Back then, he'd either been here with Gemini or he'd been alone. Now he had his family here. He had people watching him lose himself. Gem had encouraged his chaotic behavior, but Ricardo and Julio saw it for what it was: a desperate need for short-term validation.

"You promised me," the man was saying. "You promised me you'd behave tonight. You promised you'd look out for my brother. It's Dee's birthday. Please don't make this night about you."

Those last words hit him hard. Drake was already responsible for one break-up. He'd managed to repair it, but he wasn't sure he could do it again if he broke it a second time.

"You're right."

"You understand?" He hoped his friend didn't take his words too harshly and get hurt by them because they weren't meant maliciously.

"Yeah. You're right. I'm a hot mess. I'm sorry. I don't know why I get like this," Drake said, "but it's over. Whatever it is — I'll chill out."

"I didn't mean to yell at you."

"I didn't mean to yell at you either."

"No, it's good. You usually give in the second I start yelling, but you didn't this time. You're standing up for yourself. That's progress."

"One day, I'm gonna surprise you and win an argument, too."

Ricardo laughed. "Dream on."

"Just wait. It'll happen."

"You're not gonna win because I'm never fucking wrong."

Drake rolled his eyes. "Let's go have fun."

The oldest led the way back to where the rest of their party was waiting.

"Oh, here they are!" Dee said when he saw them approaching. "This is my boyfriend Ricardo and my friend Drake. Guys, this is-"

He didn't get the chance to finish. He didn't need to. They both knew who he was.

The name came off of Drake's lips involuntarily. "Josh..."

There he was, the step-brother he hadn't seen in three years — since the night Marcellas cashed in on what he was owed. Like Dee had mentioned, he was his personal trainer and he had clearly helped a lot. Josh was much thinner — not Drake thin, but he was very fit and had noticeable muscles. He was no longer pale and he didn't have that awkward, wavy hair on top of his head. Instead, it was short and straight and parted at the side and he even had facial hair. His style had changed from the unflattering, boring tees and baggy jeans to a nice, striped, button-up, collared shirt and dark blue skinnies.

"Holy shit!" Drake exclaimed, still trying to grasp what he was seeing. "Josh!"

"You two already know each other?" Dee asked with furrowed brows.

"He's my step-brother."

Drake couldn't even begin to describe the emotions that exploded out of his heart when he heard the boy speak for the first time since he stood up against Marcellas for him. "Jesus, how are you?!" The young man was still in shock. "You look good! Oh my God!" And this is when the waterworks began. Typical Drake. "Oh my God... Holy shit..."

Josh stepped closer and went in for a hug and Drake returned the embrace, his crying picking up already. The other three boys excused themselves and told the reunited brothers where they could be found before disappearing into the crowd.

"I can't believe you're really here," Josh said. "I thought..." He didn't even want to finish his sentence, but he went ahead with a sugar-coated version. "I thought something must've happened to you."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry about everything." He couldn't bring himself to let go. This was the first time in a long time that he was seeing someone from his family and it made him remember all of the horrible shit he's done. He was overcome by regret — so much so that all he could do was apologize. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Where have you been?"

He was sobbing too hard to answer. A hundred things were running through his mind: being shunned from the family, sleeping with Mindy, getting her pregnant, almost getting everyone killed. He was ashamed about all of the degrading things he had done since leaving: living with Tad, countless relapses, prostitution, homelessness, two suicide attempts. Now that Josh was back in his life — if he stayed — then he'd learn about these things. It would be like the biggest _"I told you so"_ ever.

"I'm sorry," he said when he was able to speak again. "I fucked up so much."

Josh wasn't sure what he was expecting to see if he ever saw Drake again, but this wasn't it. Maybe a still body inside a coffin or a sickly drug fiend living under a bridge or a lost soul behind prison bars. His step-brother didn't seem anywhere near as bad off as he'd always pictured. Drake wasn't letting go, so Josh had to push him back so that he could examine him.

"You look well."

It was something recovering addicts hear too often. Drake hated it — it was just a reminder of how pitiful he'd once looked to the ones around him — but this time, he was proud to hear it.

"I'm clean," he couldn't wait to tell him and a couple more sobs left him. "I'm finally clean."

Josh smiled. "Good for you."

He was still trying to take in the site before him, but Drake hung his head and continued to bawl. The older brother moved closer and hid his face in the crook of Josh's neck, then wrapped his arms around him again. He wept with guilt.

"I've missed you so fucking much. I'm so sorry for everything. I'm so fucking sorry."

Josh didn't say that it was okay because it wasn't okay, but that didn't mean he wasn't happy to see him. Drake would never be able to take away the pain he'd caused the Parker-Nichols family, but he was acknowledging that he'd done wrong and that was a start at least.

People were starting to stare and this made Josh uncomfortable, so he said, "You wanna find someplace quieter to catch up?"

"Yeah." Drake let him go. "Hold on. Let me tell them where I'm going so they don't freak out."

The crew hadn't went far because Ricardo and Julio wanted to keep an eye on the two just in case things went south. Josh watched Drake slip through the crowd and approach the oldest. They spoke for a few moments, then the boy nodded a few times. He was probably asked if he was alright. Even from here, Josh could see him shaking. Ricky reached out and pulled the boy against his chest. He spoke some more, but Josh wasn't good at reading lips. After they parted, he offered his friend a pat on the shoulder and a toothy smile like he was excited for him. Drake then said a couple things to the birthday boy and Dee shook his head and looked as though he was offering assurance. Maybe he felt guilty for being so emotional while they were partying. A few words were shared with Julio, who also shook his head and seemed like he was urging the young man to go. Drake nodded, then returned to Josh. He led him out a side door so that they were in an alley, then he pulled out his cigarettes. They were quiet while he got one out, lit it, then took a deep breath in. A cloud of smoke left his lips on an exhale.

"I'm sorry I'm such a wreck." Drake wiped his eyes and sniffled.

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "That was pretty responsible of you — you know, letting them know where you were going." It was just a small thing, but to Josh, it seemed so out of character for his brother.

"We have an accountability system kinda," the young man explained. "Ricky and Julio helped me get clean."

"That's really good," Josh said.

Drake just stared at him as he bounced on the balls of his heels restlessly and smoked. He couldn't explain why he was trembling, but he couldn't stop. "It's so good to see you, man."

"It's good to see _you_."

"I think about you everyday."

"Then why haven't you come back?"

Drake didn't know how to answer this. He didn't want to tell him he'd been banned, but he also didn't want it to sound like he didn't love them.

"Did you just not want to," Josh asked, "or was it because my dad told you to stay away?"

"You know about that?"

"It came out."

"Look, I wanted to come home, Josh. I wanted to come back that night everything went down, but it's okay. I get why he told me to go. I'm not mad," Drake said. "And then I tried to go home a while ago, but then everyone was gone and some other family was there."

"Geez, I had no idea. You must've thought we abandoned you."

Drake could still remember that sickening feeling he'd had when he thought that his family would be lost to him forever. "It's okay. I ran into Meelah's parents later and they wrote down the new address. I just haven't looked at it yet."

"Are you going to?"

The young man was quiet for a moment. "I don't know. I promised Walter I would stay away."

"My dad regrets the way he treated you and your mom misses you so much. _So much_. You should go see her."

"She doesn't hate me?" His voice cracked when he said this and his bottom lip quivered.

"Of course she doesn't hate you! She talks about you all the time. She prays for you every morning when she wakes up and every night before she goes to sleep. She's never once given up on you."

More tears came as he wiped his eyes. "I never meant to hurt anyone. I never wanted to be this way. I've done so much..."

Josh stayed quiet as he cried. This wasn't a Drake he knew. This wasn't the normal Drake and this wasn't the drug-addicted Drake. This was a whole new Drake and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"I'm so ashamed, Josh," he sobbed. "I'm so ashamed."

Unlike Ricardo, he didn't hug him or soothe him with kind words. He offered no comfort. Was he happy to see Drake again? Absolutely. Did that mean he had forgotten what he'd done? No. Drake fucked up big time. He caused a lot of pain. Now it was all catching up to him. Now he had to deal with the consequences, but honestly, Josh wasn't here for all that. He just wanted to know what his step-brother's life was like now.

"So are you into guys now?" he asked and Drake was taken aback by the sudden topic change.

He sniffled and wiped some of the tears off of his face, but more replaced them. "No," he said with confusion.

"'Cause I saw you with that guy."

"No, I was just..." He couldn't explain that to him, especially when he didn't even understand it himself. "I mean, I've been with guys before, but...I'm not _in_ to guys." This wasn't making any sense, even to himself. "I was just... He was gonna give—" He stopped talking abruptly and it was obvious by his facial expression that he'd said something he hadn't wanted to.

Josh voiced his suspicion. "He was gonna give you drugs?"

"I mean, it's no big deal really. I never had a problem with anything but cough medicine."

"I thought you said you were clean."

"I was." Drake quickly corrected himself. "I am. I just — I mean, since I'm only addicted to Triple C's, that's all I really keep track of. I haven't done ecstasy in years. It's really not a big deal."

Josh seemed doubtful and his scrunched eyebrows and tight lips showed this.

"Really," the young man said again as of this would assure his step-brother.

"So kissing guys for drugs is..." Josh shrugged questioningly. "—not a problem?" His query silenced the boy. "I saw you arguing with Ricardo when he tried to stop you." He gave Drake a chance to explain himself, but he couldn't. "Anyway, it's not really my business anymore," he said, ready to move on.

"Josh—"

"So no girlfriends or...boyfriends?"

He dropped the subject, too, and shook his head. He considered talking about Dahlia, but decided against it. "You?"

"Yeah, I've been with my girlfriend Rochelle for close to a year now."

"What's she like?"

"She's really funny and she's really smart. She likes video games and sports and cooking."

"Where did you two meet?"

"We had a couple college courses together. We joined the same study group and we just hit it off instantly. Now we share an apartment by the school."

If they shared an apartment, Drake assumed this meant they had slept together, which meant that Josh was no longer a virgin. He wondered if she was the first person he had been with or if there were other girls, but he didn't ask.

"What's she look like? Do you have a picture?"

"I don't," he said flatly.

In this day and age, there was no way that he didn't have a single photo with or of her. There was Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat — not to mention his phone's camera roll...and he didn't have a single picture? Drake knew what it was. Josh didn't want to show him because of what had happened with Mindy. He didn't trust Drake and that hurt a little bit, but he couldn't really blame him. He pretended to believe Josh's lie.

"Oh, well, I'm really glad you met her. You deserve to be happy."

"What about you? Any college?"

"Come on. Me?" He tried to make a joke, but he felt inferior.

"Or a job?"

Drake shook his head with embarrassment. He tried to think of something to counter this — some big accomplishment — but he couldn't think of anything at all. He thought he'd made a lot of progress, but after all these years, he's done nothing with his life. He put so much work in, yet he was still heading nowhere. He was just heading nowhere whilst sober.

"I mean, I had one. Ricardo owns a bar and I was working there for a while."

"Why'd you stop?"

He'd only brought it up so he didn't sound like a complete loser, but by doing this, he'd dug himself into a deeper hole. How was he supposed to answer this? "I, um..." He could lie, but what lie would make sense? He needed to have a good excuse for why he was currently jobless and letting Ricardo take care of him. He couldn't think of any and he really didn't like lying anymore. "I relapsed." He tried to say it casually, but he was clearly embarrassed. "It was several months ago. I was almost a year clean, but then I slipped up and I ran away for a while. He told me I could come back because I'm a good worker," he said, a bit too desperate to not look like a waste of human flesh, "but he wanted me to give it time and not rush into things."

"How long did you say you've been clean again?"

"About a month?" Suddenly, that number didn't seem so big anymore. He kept his eyes low as he lit another cigarette.

"That's really good," Josh said, but he was just being courteous.

"Thanks," the boy replied quietly. He didn't want to talk about himself anymore. "Um, are you still working at The Premier?"

"No. Actually, I'm an Intelligence Research Specialist for the DEA."

His brother worked for the fucking DEA: the Drug Enforcement Administration. Back in high school, this wasn't the direction he'd been heading towards at all. He was supposed to go to Harvard or Yale or some big school. He had the grades, but instead, he decided to go to some community college so that he could spend the rest of his life fighting in the war on drugs. There was no doubt that Drake had heavily influenced this life choice and it made him feel bad, but not just that. He also felt like a loser — like he was the kind of vermin that Josh was trying to exterminate.

"Wow," Drake said. "That sounds fancy."

"It's really not."

"Do you like it?"

"I do."

"That's good." He swallowed and shifted uncomfortably, his eyes still on the ground. "That's really good." Just minutes ago, Drake had tried to score drugs right in front of a drug enforcement agent. _Fucking perfect_ , he thought with a tinge of self-loathing.

"So feel free to throw out some names." The young man laughed.

It was a joke. Drake knew this, but it still hurt his feelings that Josh saw him this way. He wasn't like that. He wasn't on heroin or meth or coke. He just took cough medicine. His drug dealer was a goddamn grocery store. He didn't have names and he wouldn't share them if he did. Still, the young man forced some awkward laughter so that Josh didn't feel bad about what he'd said.

"So what about music? Are you still doing that?"

"Um, well, we're probably gonna start the band back up. Julio and I did a gig last week and it went really well. The owner likes us and it pays alright."

"That's pretty cool. When are you playing?"

"I don't know yet. We've both kinda gotta lot of stuff going on, so it's hard finding time to practice."

He could tell that Josh was curious as to what kept him so busy when he had neither a job nor schooling. Between rehearsals and Julio's DUI classes and AA meetings (which he went to about three or four nights a week), it was hard to fit in a time when they could practice together without being exhausted.

"I've joined a musical production," Drake explained. "The rehearsal schedule's pretty all-over-the-place."

"You're doing _Rent_ with Dee?"

"Yeah." He couldn't help but smile with pride a little bit. He was getting some traction back.

"That's crazy. I never would've pictured you as the acting type." After he said it, however, he realized that his step-brother was a phenomenal actor. He'd spent their entire relationship lying to Josh about many different things, including (but not limited to) his home-life with his father, his relationship with Mindy, and his addiction.

"Me neither, but Dee made me try out with him just for fun and I somehow landed a part, so I decided to actually stick with it."

"Good for you."

He was doing it again. He was seeking approval. Sex wasn't involved, but it still felt like a pathetic attempt. However, he couldn't stop. He needed his brother to know how well he was doing now. He didn't want to be that stupid, hopeless addict everyone had always viewed him as.

"You should come," Drake invited, "when the show opens. I can get you a ticket."

"I'll be there. Dee's getting one for me."

This meant that he was coming to support Dee, not Drake, but he tried not to take it to heart. Dee had asked first. It's not a big deal _who_ gave him the ticket. He was coming. He'd see them both.

"Which character do you play?" Josh asked.

"I play a few different ones. I'm not part of the core, so I just do different stuff." He played a junkie. He played a homeless person. He played a member of the AIDS support group. There were others also.

"Is it fun?"

"It's a lot of fun. I'm glad he made me do it."

Josh watched him light another cigarette. This displeased him. Smoking was a nasty habit, but he said nothing. He didn't need to say anything anyway. Drake could tell what he thought about it just by looking at him.

"Sorry, I just... I guess I'm nervous," the chain-smoker said. "I didn't expect to ever see you again." He brushed his fingers through his hair. "So what day is Dee getting the ticket for? Do you know?"

"Opening night, I think."

"Oh, cool. That's when Ricky and Julio are coming. Mrs. Hayfer's gonna be there then, too."

"Mrs. Hayfer?" he was clearly confused.

"Yeah, we're like total BFFs now. We've got friendship bracelets." He held his up so that his step-brother could see the gray and yellow string tied around his wrist.

"You're kidding," he said with disbelief. When the boy shook his head, he asked, "How did that happen?"

Drake shrugged. He put his eyes downwards again, then began to examine the scuff marks on the white part of his Converse shoes. "Well, we kinda just ran into each other one day. I was at a really low point in my life — during the relapse I told you about. She took me back home."

Actually, Mrs. Hayfer had still hated him after that. It wasn't until his suicide attempt that she saw him in a different light, but he didn't want to mention that part.

"She's helped me a lot," the boy continued. "I'd be dead if not for her."

He was reminded of her sheer bravery when she stood up for him against a tweaked out addict wielding a gun. She risked her own life for him and that was just minutes after she'd caught him in her husband's tractor.

"She's really kind and selfless."

"See? I've tried telling you that," Josh said with a smile. "If only you weren't so dang stubborn."

Drake chuckled.

"I haven't seen her in a while," his younger brother said. "Since graduation."

"She came to my gig last week, which surprised me. She said she wanted to come to another one, too. And get this. After it was over, she came up to me while I was packing shit up and offered me feedback. She told me what I was doing wrong and gave me advice."

Josh laughed at this. "Yeah, that's Mrs. Hayfer for you. She never can just accept things as they are, even when you're one hundred percent sure that your science fair project is perfect just how it is."

"I'm sensing some bitterness."

"It was literally the font on the poster board. That's all she didn't like and it was fine. I used Helvetica. She said Times New Roman would've looked more professional."

The boy laughed. "Shit."

"What'd she say was wrong with your concert?"

"She said I should stop cussing so much."

"Oh. Yeah, I'd probably agree with her on that one."

"I grew up hearing bad language every weekend." In fact, it was _all_ he heard every weekend. "I don't know why anyone expects me to be any different."

Josh went quiet and this gave Drake time to reflect on what he'd said. Although he'd meant it, he regretted saying it. He could talk about his dad with Julio and Ricardo anytime he felt like it, but he was never able to do that around his family. After Martin's death, everyone got awkward and weird if Drake mentioned him and apparently they hadn't grown out of that.

"Sorry, I don't know why I said that. I wasn't trying to...play victim or anything. I just..."

Back when he'd lived at the Parker-Nichols home, he could never escape what had happened to him. That's all anyone saw when they looked at him. To them, he was a rape victim. To the Santos brothers, he was a rape survivor. To his actual family, he was a drug fiend. To his chosen family, he was an addict in recovery. After his father's death, Drake could do something as innocent as to sleep in late or be a little quiet and this would get everyone talking. On more than one occasion, he had walked into a room and everyone would suddenly go quiet. He knew they were talking about him. He knew they were discussing what had happened, trying to wrap their heads around how they would deal with it. They didn't need to figure out how to deal with it. Drake did. He only ever needed them to be able to listen without feeling weird or spinning the whole conversation around and forcing Drake to comfort them for their guilt. It wasn't easy. He understood that. Ricardo and Julio used to do this, too, but they listened without taking offense, so when the boy told them what they were doing, they stopped and knowing that Drake didn't hold them responsible actually helped them to forgive themselves.

"Anyway..." Drake cleared his throat.

He couldn't talk about his father around Josh. No one wanted to hear about the abuse he'd suffered through because it was too hard for them. He never would've been able to recover back home. The abuse was part of who he was. It came out everyday in some way, shape or form. Like now, for example. He had ruined a perfectly fine conversation by the mere reference to his dad and maybe Josh felt like he did this on purpose as a tactic of manipulation. Maybe Josh thought his step-brother was that conniving. Drake didn't hold it against him. In fact, this was something he would've done had he still been using drugs. He used to always do this. The thing was that he was a different person now, but how was Josh supposed to know that when Drake's been gone for three years?

"I, um...I got my own library card."

"And it's getting some use?"

"It's getting a lot of use," he said, hoping that this would make his brother proud.

"You mean with books, right? You're not just checking out DVDs?"

Their library has a DVD section and sometimes, when they were younger and Audrey forced Drake to take his little sister to the library, he would browse through the movies while Megan got some books.

"No, actual books. Like..." He tried to think of one Josh would recognize, which knocked out a lot of the drug novels. "Oh, I read _The Catcher In The Rye_ with Mrs. Hayfer."

"Yeah? I loved that one."

"I did, too. She explained some things to me and made it really easy for me to understand what certain things mean and stuff."

Josh nodded with something that could've been pride, but they weren't quite there yet. Drake wanted that. He wanted his brother to be proud of him no matter how desperate it made him look.

"See, I'll show you." He pulled out his phone and opened his Goodreads app. He clicked to open the shelf containing the books he's already read and crossed the alley, where his brother stood next to the door.

Josh took the phone and scrolled through some of the titles. He didn't recognize too many, but he did know of the _Divergent_ series, the _Harry Potter_ series and _The Perks Of Being A Wallflower_.

"And I just got the card back in February, so I've read all that in five months."

"Wow, that's really good," he said. "Some of these are really long." When he finished the list, he passed the phone back, then met his eyes. "That's really good."

He hated himself for being so pathetic. He couldn't say anything that would erase all the bad things he's done. Josh didn't care how many books he read or whether or not he was performing in a musical. Drake still fucked Mindy. Three times, he fucked her. The fact that his step-brother had hugged him when he saw him rather than hit him said a lot. Josh was a much better person than him — a better person than he could ever be. Plus, there was more than the shit with Mindy. Drake had put his family — Josh included — through a lot due to his nasty addiction. Still, Josh was willing to talk to him. Sure, he was judging quite a bit and he showed little sympathy, but he had every right to respond with his real feelings. Drake didn't deserve his kindness.

"So..." Drake walked back over to his side of the alley because his brother was clearly bothered by his cigarette smoke. He had so many questions, but it was hard to pick which one to start with. "How's the baby?"

" _The_ baby? You mean _your_ baby?"

The young man lowered his eyes with shame.

"Well, she's not a baby anymore."

"Right," the deadbeat dad said guiltily. "What's she like?"

"Do you care?"

He stayed quiet. Of course he cared. Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked. Josh's question made sense, though. If he cared, wouldn't he have been there for his own kid?

Since Drake clearly had nothing to say to that, Josh said, "If you wanna know what kinda stuff your daughter's into, you're gonna have to ask her yourself."

"You're right," the young man said, glancing up at him. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. In fact, I'm glad to see you haven't completely forgotten about her."

"I've never forgotten," Drake protested.

"Well, you sure fooled me."

He went quiet again. He was hurt, but he knew he didn't have the right to be. Not once has he tried reaching out to see how his daughter was or offer any kind of assistance. "I guess I deserve that," he said sadly.

"Amongst other things, yeah."

"Look, I know I fucked up. I know I'm an asshole. I just... Things would've been so much worse if I was trying to take care of a baby while I was using."

"You could've quit."

"It's not that easy."

"That's a shame."

Drake's eyes were beginning to fill with tears again, so he hung his head. "I know," he almost whispered. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

* * *

Dee giggled dumbly as he entered the Santos house. Ricardo was wasted as well, but he was trying to pretend he wasn't for his brother's sake. However, everyone could see him stumbling around. He was the one who had made the rule about not coming home drunk, yet he was the first one to break it.

"Thank you, guys, for coming to my birthday," Dee said. "I had a lot of fun."

"We did, too," Drake said.

He and Josh spent roughly thirty minutes catching up before heading back inside. Drake hadn't wanted to make the night about himself, so he made sure to get in there and celebrate. Like promised, he stuck close to Julio and even tried to get him to dance a couple times. Too caught up trying to protect his masculinity, the boy refused, but he still had a good time. He watched Drake dance with other guys for a while and that gave him a good laugh. Drake literally gave no fucks how he looked letting gay guys hang off of him. Julio fully supported his brother's sexuality, but did that mean he had to be comfortable with letting other males grind all over him, too? He knew he had a lot to learn, but couldn't he support Ricardo and not want to dance with other men at the same time? He hadn't been the only one acting shy. Josh, too, kept his distance when a guy would come up to him. He and Julio talked a bit, but not too much because Julio caught Drake watching them at one point with what looked like jealousy or sadness or both. Now that they were home, he could ask him about it.

"I guess we're gonna call it a night," Ricardo said. "I've gotta get this fool in bed before he passes out."

"Here."

The man turned and Drake tossed a bottle of Advil. Obviously, he didn't catch it.

"Sorry, that was stupid of me." Drake picked it up so he wouldn't attempt it and fall over, then he also gave him the water bottle in his hand.

"Thanks."

They all said goodnight, then the two oldest ascended the stairs, leaving the two youngest alone in the foyer. Julio sneaked a peek at Drake, who's fake party smile immediately faded. He knew it had been an act. Drake could never be happy watching people getting fucked up without him.

"What's up?" Julio asked.

"I'm just tired." He went into the kitchen and grabbed a water.

Julio got one, too, then followed him into the living room, where he saw him plop down onto the couch with exhaustion.

"My feet hurt," Drake complained.

"Probably all that jumping around you did."

"I really should have took some of that Advil before I gave it to Ricky."

"Want me to get some for you?"

"No. Who knows _what_ they're doing up there?"

Julio chuckled. "I think there's Tylenol in my room somewhere. I'll have to find it."

"That's okay. I'll probably just sleep it off."

"You're still dropping me off at Mrs. Hayfer's to cut grass tomorrow, right?"

"You know I really don't mind doing it," Drake said. "You don't owe me anything. You've done enough for me."

"The DUI shit was my mess. I just don't want you and my brother to have to clean it up while I sit back looking pretty."

"You've cleaned up plenty of my messes."

"Drake...shut the fuck up. Why can't you just let someone do something nice for you without giving them a bunch of resistance? I'm cutting the fucking grass, okay?"

"Okay," the young man said defensively. "Geez."

Drake got paid three hundred last week when Julio cut the grass. One hundred of that was sent to Rhinestone and the other two were given to Gemini. They still owed Gemini another two hundred, then that would take care of the bail money at least.

"So things didn't go well with Josh today?" Julio asked.

"No, they went fine."

His friend just stared at him knowingly.

"I mean, I don't know what I was expecting. I _did_ sleep with the girl he wanted to marry, I _did_ fuck up a lot of shit, and I _am_ a deadbeat dad, so it went alright considering."

Julio had noticed that while Drake was bouncing around with excitement upon first seeing his step-brother, Josh had remained emotionally distanced and lacked compassion for Drake's tears. He'd known then that it wasn't going to be a happy reunion. "What'd he say?"

"He was just asking how things were now, which was totally humiliating because I have no job, I'm not in school, I've done literally nothing since I left home and I'm only a month clean."

"Drake..." Julio rolled his eyes, then sat up straight. "Look, I can get where Josh is coming from because I didn't understand you either, but then I became an alcoholic, so believe me when I tell you that one month clean is insanely awesome."

The boy looked downwards shyly. "Thanks." He sighed. "I guess I just felt bad about myself because his life is totally different now and mine hasn't really changed."

"It _has_ changed. Sure, you still struggle with cravings, but — I don't know if you remember what you used to be like, but you have grown so much. You used to lie and steal without remorse. Now you're not a thief and you at least feel guilty if you don't tell the truth. You've had some setbacks lately, but that's okay. You're still learning and you're still trying."

Drake was starting to feel better. "I wish I could redo this night. I was so pathetic. Like, desperately seeking his approval and he knew it. Like, I showed him my list of books I've read. So stupid. I'm so embarrassed."

Julio couldn't help but laugh at this. "Well, it _is_ a pretty impressive list."

"That's what I thought. I talked about my library card and everything and he was just unimpressed. Like, hello? Can't you see I'm trying to buy your love here? Give me something, you know?" Drake was always so proud to show off his library card and this made Julio proud. He was that guy who would go to pay for something and "accidentally" pull out his library card instead of his debit card, then make a whole scene about it. Yes, he actually did this, but more as a joke for Julio than anything else.

"A lot of shit's broken," he replied. "Things aren't gonna be fixed after a half hour conversation. You'll have to prove to him that you've changed and that could take some time. Honestly, he still might not be able to get past some things, but you can't let that get you down. You've got a new family who loves you unconditionally and we're always willing to work on forgiving you."

Drake offered a grateful smile out of the side of his mouth.

"I mean, you put a fucking snake in my bed. If I can forgive you for that... Like, there's literally nothing you could ever do that's worse than that."

This made the young man laugh. "Thanks. This talk really helped."

"Good."

"Enough about me, though. What about you? How are you doing?"

"Well...it was pretty rough honestly. I wanted to be there for Dee and I'm glad I went, but I probably won't be doing that again anytime soon."

"Is there anything I can do to help? We can build a blanket fort and cry together."

Julio laughed. "As appealing as that sounds, I think I'll pass." He said, "No, it's pretty late, so I think I'll take some NyQuil to fall asleep and then tomorrow I'll do the lawn work for Mrs. Hayfer and her neighbors and then I'll catch a meeting if you don't mind taking me."

"No, of course not. Seriously, dude, I can take care of the grass if you wanna go to a morning meeting. I can drop you off and get started on everything and then pick you up and you can take over if you want."

"I'll see how I feel tomorrow," Julio promised. "If it's not any better, I might take you up on that."

"Please do. Don't try to push through and get the grass shit done and risk making things worse. You gotta take care of you. Think of your mental health. I don't give a fuck about the grass-cutting. I give a fuck about _you_."

"Thanks."

"You want me to stay with you tonight?"

"I finally go to a gay nightclub with you and you think I'm just gonna let you crawl into my bed that easy?"

Drake chuckled and shook his head. "Shut the fuck up."

"I see what you're doing. You got a taste of that Santos dick and now you're craving more, but I am not the one."

The young man tossed a pillow at him as he stood. "I'm fucking done with your stupid ass. I'm going to bed."

"Have sweet dreams about me."

Drake flipped him off, then headed upstairs.

* * *

"Drake?"

Despite the softness of Julio's voice, this woke him. He opened his eyes and turned over to see his friend standing just inside the door.

"Why are you in here?" Julio asked.

He was in Ricardo's bed because he found the couple passed out in his bed when he went upstairs. He didn't mind it. He had a full-sized mattress while Ricky owned a king, so he got to stretch out. This was good because he spent a lot of time tossing and turning for some reason.

"Those dumbasses fell asleep in the wrong room." He sat up when Julio closed the door and crossed the room, then he scooted over so that his friend could sit down next to him and slip under the covers. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was just before four, which meant that less than two hours had passed since they'd gotten home. "Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

"I couldn't sleep," the boy said. "I'm really struggling."

Drake wore an empathetic frown. He moved closer again and wrapped his arms around his friend. "I'm sorry." He allowed Julio to rest his head on his shoulder. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I just keep thinking about, like, I could've just had one drink, you know? It would've been fine, but deep down, I know that one would lead to ten or probably more and I know it would've been bad, but it just sucks. I didn't wanna do this tonight because it's Dee's birthday and Ricardo didn't even want me to come in the first place, but I assured him that I'd be fine, but I'm not. I just wanna drink and seeing them like that made everything worse and I know he'll feel so bad about it tomorrow because he didn't even wanna drink. _I_ told him to. I told him it would be okay and it was at first. I mean, I wanted to drink, too, but it was controllable. I did have fun and you made me laugh a lot, but then we got home and everyone went to bed and everything got quieter and my thoughts got louder and I took some NyQuil and I'm so fucking tired, but I can't sleep because my brain is stuck thinking about drinking again. I keep trying to tell myself that I can control it. I can just drink a little, but I get so fucking violent when I'm drunk and I don't wanna hit you anymore, so I keep telling myself that. I keep trying to remind myself of all the reasons I quit and I guess it makes it harder for me to give in, but the option is still there."

Drake felt really bad for him when he heard him sniffle. He knew what cravings were like. He knew how intense they could be. He hated that his best friend had to go through it.

"I just keep thinking about how you did it," Julio said. "How you got clean. No one understood you. No one had any idea what you were going through, but everyone judged you when you slipped up. I didn't always show it, but I always got so angry anytime you relapsed. You were by yourself the entire time and I've had constant support from you and my brother and it's still fucking hard for me. It does help to know that at least someone understands and has been where I am and has felt what I feel. Sometimes, that's the only thing that keeps me sober and then I feel bad because you never had that. You always look down on yourself, like today when you were telling me about your conversation with Josh and it's all bullshit. You're one of the strongest people I know and you don't even believe that. You don't understand how fucking proud of yourself you should be. You did it all on your own and you had to put up with a lot of judgement, but you still did it."

"But I was never alone," Drake said. "You may not have understood and you may have gotten frustrated, but you still tried your best to help and you _did_ help." He rubbed circles into his friend's back, his heart hurting for Julio. "I don't want you to sit here and think about that shit because I'm fine. Let's work on your shit right now, okay?"

"It just feels like it's never gonna end."

"I know," the boy said. "I know how you feel, but I promise the craving _will_ end and then it won't be so hard to say no. You just have to get through this craving."

"How?"

He thought for a moment before offering, "We'll go for a walk."

"That helps?"

"I honestly don't know. I Googled it the other day and that's one thing it recommended."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then we'll try something else." Drake stood. "Come on. I need to go to the store anyways."

"I'm wearing pajamas."

"So am I. No one'll give a shit."

Julio stood. "You don't have money."

"Your brother left his wallet downstairs. I'll tell him I took some of my money tomorrow and I'll make sure to save the receipt. You can vouch for me."

"You're not gonna buy anything you shouldn't, are you?"

"No, no," the boy assured. "No, not at all. I'm gonna get something to fuck Ricky up. You got him back after the water gun thing, but I haven't yet."

Julio laughed and wiped the wetness away from his eyes. "I wake you up at four a.m. and your first thought is week-old revenge?"

"I just haven't had the opportunity since I have to okay it with him when I wanna buy something."

"What are you gonna get?"

Drake smirked mischievously. "You'll see."

* * *

It took a while to walk to the store, get the supplies needed, then walk back home and having his mind on a task did actually help ease Julio's cravings. When they got home, both fell asleep in Ricardo's bed and woke up at ten-thirty, which is when Drake had set the alarm for because he knew Ricky and Dee would sleep in late due to all the dancing and the drinking. Julio popped up immediately and seemed even more excited than the one who had done all the plotting. Like expected, when he and Drake tip-toed into the bedroom, they were both snoring away.

The plan was to carefully put hair removal strips all over Ricardo's legs so that he'd be forced to peel them off. Once Drake clued his friend in on the idea, Julio had told him that he was evil, but he entered the bedroom right behind the boy and helped him execute it. As a last minute decision, they decided to only do one of Ricardo's legs and to also do one of Dee's because Dee had been apart of the water gun prank as well.

They were honestly surprised that both men had stayed asleep while they did this and Drake started to think that maybe they wouldn't wake up at all despite the pain. That's what happened in that one episode of SpongeBob when SpongeBob and Patrick did this very same thing to a sleeping Sandy. That's where he'd gotten the idea from actually. Drake hooked his stereo up to Bluetooth and chose a song that started loud and hard. He nodded at Julio, who then covered his own ears, then he started the music. It was so loud that it gave Drake a start despite him already knowing that it was going to happen.

The sleeping couple both awoke immediately. Dee was confused and alert as if expecting danger. Ricardo was mad as hell. He started yelling — probably swearing, no doubt — so Drake turned the music off.

"What the fuck?!"

Julio ignored any confusion he had and went straight to the one question he'd been most curious about. "Bruh, how the fuck did you end up in the wrong room?" He was laughing and it made his brother even madder.

Dee clutched his pounding head, obviously hungover and feeling unwell and exhausted. "Mmm, what the hell?" It was unclear whether this was in response to Julio's question or their rude awakening.

"What the fuck is this on my leg?!" Ricky asked with irritation.

"Oh, oops, my fault," Drake said. "Lemme get that for you." He lifted a corner and snatched the sticky strip away in a flash.

"Aahh! Hijo de puta! What the fuck?!" He looked like he had to physically restrain himself from wringing the boy's neck right there.

"Jesus, look at all that hair," Julio said as he looked at the strip.

"No you fucking didn't." Ricardo was fuming.

Dee winced as he tried to slowly peel away one of the adhesives on his own leg, but he had to stop. However, Julio gripped that one and ripped it off.

"Fuck!" the tired man yelped.

"What the hell?!" Ricardo yelled, defending his boyfriend.

"We would've left him out of it," Julio said, "but the second he soaked us with water guns, he joined the war. Welcome to the family, Dee." His warm welcoming was tearing away another strip and his partner in crime followed this up by tugging one off of Ricardo's leg.

"GRRR!" the man growled. He saw his friend going for another one. "Touch me again," he challenged. "I fucking dare you."

Drake knew when to back off and now was that time. He was still laughing. Ricky examined his leg and saw five more waxing strips. He'd have to go through that pain five more times. He looked over at his boyfriend just as he slowly lifted the corner on another one. He only had two left. They went easy on him.

"You know we're gonna get you back for this," Ricardo threatened.

"Bring it on," his little bro taunted.

The man tried to do Dee's strategy and remove it slowly, but it was even worse. However, he couldn't work up the nerve to snatch it away himself. "Get it off."

"You want me to do it?" Drake asked.

"Yes, just do it fast."

The boy stepped forwards and gripped a corner. "On three. One-" Without waiting any longer, he tore the strip off, ripping long hairs right out of Ricky's leg.

"Gaahh! You said 'on three', asshole!"

Drake immediately tore another one off before he could recuperate.

"Stop! Stop!"

The younger boys were laughing as the homeowner cursed up a storm in Spanish.

"I swear to God I'm gonna kill you both," the man threatened.

"It was Drake's idea," Julio snitched.

"Hey!" The boy who had been thrown under the bus dropped his jaw with astonishment.

"Well, it was." His friend shrugged.

"Drake, you're so fucking dead," Ricardo said.

It was worth it. Drake was enjoying every moment of this. Dee got through his current one slowly, then he decided to get the last one over with, so he yanked it off, then massaged his inconsistently smooth leg. Despite his anger, Ricky still let his friend rip his away. He groaned and growled and screamed through clenched teeth, which had Julio on the ground and Drake hunched over, clutching his ribs with laughter. The last one was on his inner thigh, just below his boxer briefs. He'd saved this for last for obvious reasons.

"Oh, you just fucking wait until I get you back," Ricardo was mumbling angrily as Drake clenched the corner of the last strip. "You're gonna regret this."

"You ready?"

"Yeah." He braced himself for the inevitable pain that was to come. This one was the most painful of all and what made it worse was that the young man lost his grip on it halfway through.

"Shit. Oops."

Julio squealed with laughter and even Dee had a chuckle. The man was fuming. Drake got the last piece off and Ricardo rubbed his hairless leg for a moment.

Dee could see his boyfriend's face go red and his fists clench with fury. "Yeah, I'd start running now if I were you."

Drake bolted so fast that he was gone in the blink of an eye. He was the first out the door and his accomplice was right behind him. They ran down the stairs and out the front door, then hopped into Julio's car and backed out of the driveway, still dying with laughter.

* * *

Drake saw movement out of his peripheral vision and looked up to see Mrs. Hayfer's car pulling into the driveway. She popped the trunk, then she and Julio got out and started getting out the groceries. Drake turned off the lawn mower and wiped the sweat off of his face with the bottom of his t-shirt, then he crossed the street. The two were already inside, so he checked the trunk and grabbed the last few bags, then shut it and went inside the house.

"Thank you, Drake," Alice said when she saw him.

"Could I get some water, please?"

"Of course." She grabbed a glass and started filling it using the refrigerator filter.

The young man was breathing hard as he looked over at his friend. "How'd your meeting go?"

Mrs. Hayfer had offered to take Julio to AA because she had to go shopping, then she swung by and picked him up on her way home.

"It was good," Julio said. "I'm feeling a lot better today than I did last night."

"That's great."

Drake was trying to hide it, but he was clearly already exhausted. Both boys were. They hadn't slept much having to deal with Julio's craving, but it was worth it because the addict felt like things would be alright again.

"I'll take over so you can rest." Julio headed outside.

"Here you go." Alice handed Drake the glass.

"Thanks." He gulped down the chilled water and it started to cool him.

"If you ever need water or anything while I'm gone, you can come inside and get it. I left the door unlocked for you. You have to make sure you stay hydrated being out there in that hot sun." She pulled out a chair for him at the table and he sat down.

"Thanks."

"I'll make you some lunch. Turkey sandwiches okay?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." He drank some more of his water and caught his breath. A minute later, he could hear the faint sound of the lawn mower going again.

As he waited for his meal, his eyes moved around the room. Mrs. Hayfer's kitchen had a very homey feel. The cabinets and table were a light oak brown and the short curtain that was tied back to reveal the window above the sink was a soft blue and white checkered pattern. On the sill, she had a timer shaped like a plump red apple — the most basic gift for a teacher. On the wall next to the door, he spotted a calendar that was flipped to the July page.

"Less than a week before school starts back," he said.

"I know. This summer went by too fast."

"I never thought about it, but it must be really cool to get two months off work."

"Well, I still have to do planning for the next year, but I definitely get to relax and sleep in much more."

"Teaching seems like it could be fun," Drake said. "But like, just the elementary grades. Older kids are pricks."

"Not all of them were like you, Drake," she joked and it made her smile when she heard him chuckle.

"Ouch. Roasted." However, she wasn't wrong. "I wasn't the worst, though. What was that one girl's name from my class? I remember you telling her to get her feet off her desk and she just sat back and crossed her arms and put her feet on the guy's desk next to her."

"Yolanda Ranger," Alice recalled. "Oh, she really got my blood boiling that day."

"I mean, I never listened to you either, but the disrespect... I was shook."

"And if my memory serves me, you started dating her after that."

This friendship was new and he wasn't her student anymore. He was an adult who had probably experienced a lot more shit than most people his age and Alice knew more about him than what was normal for a teacher/student relationship. Because of their strange shared experiences, they didn't quite have any set boundaries and they were still figuring things out as they went, so that's why Drake spoke freely as if he were talking to Julio or Ricardo.

"I thought her rebellious ways meant she put out. She didn't."

Mrs. Hayfer couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Or maybe she just didn't wanna do it with you."

The young man furrowed his brows. "Have you seen me?" Everyone wanted to be with him in high school; he wasn't just being conceited. Now he was much more self-conscious about his appearance due to all the ugly scarring, but when he was in school, he had girls clinging to him and talking to him all day, so he knew he was hot back then.

"Yes, I have. More of you than I'd have liked," she said. "You want cheese and mayonnaise, too?"

"Yes, please." Drake stood and refilled his glass at the refrigerator. "So when you became a teacher, you always wanted to teach high school kids?"

"No, actually. I started out teaching little children, but they're so rowdy and hyper. I only did that for three years, then I switched."

"You switch a lot?"

"No, just twice. That time and then the time I changed from eleventh grade math to twelfth grade math."

"That's it?" Drake asked. "So in all your years of teaching, I just so happened to be in your class the one time you changed grades?"

"If you're asking if you were fortunate enough to have me for both eleventh and twelfth grade even though I hadn't switched grades in over thirty years, then yes."

"Wow, how lucky of me."

Alice put his sandwiches on a plate, then handed it to him while he was up.

"Thank you."

"There're some chips in the pantry right there if you want some." She then got started putting away the groceries.

Drake set his glass and plate down, then opened the pantry door. There was a large party mix bag that had a few different types of Lay's chips. He chose a blue bag of salt and vinegar and took his seat at the table.

"One thing that's different when you're a teacher," Alice said, "is that you only get paid once a month, so you have to learn how to budget."

"Seriously? You must have good impulse control. When I'm at the store, I'll buy the randomest shit — excuse me. I mean stuff, and it's stuff I don't even need."

"I used to be that way," she said, "then I'd end up in a bind and have no money left and two weeks before I got paid again. It was a hard habit to break, but when I was young, I was used to getting paid minimum wage bi-weekly from my diner job, then I became a teacher and got a higher salary and it all came once a month and I felt rich. I'd blow my money on new clothes and I don't even know what else, then I'd be too broke to pay my cell phone bill at the end of the month."

"I guess it forces you to learn how to budget, which is a good thing," said Drake. "I think being a teacher would be fun, but like, the elementary age because then you can go to the zoo and the aquarium and all the cool places and you can paint leprechaun footprints on their desks while they're in P.E. on St. Patrick's Day and they'll come back all excited to see if they caught a leprechaun in the trap they made and you can have them make solar system projects and talk about outer space. I don't even remember getting to do anything involving outer space since, like...sixth grade or something. That was the best thing to learn about."

"Well, maybe that's something you can work towards — becoming a teacher."

"What, me? No. No way. I'm a hot mess."

"You stay on the path you're currently on and I think you'd do just fine," she said. After she finished the groceries, she picked up the sandwich she had made for herself and took a seat at the table.

"Speaking of careers," Drake said, "Josh works for the DEA."

"Wow, really? That's unexpected. How do you know?"

"I ran into him last night. We went to a club for Dee's birthday and Dee invited him. Apparently, they're friends and he's known him for a while because he's Josh's personal trainer."

"What are the odds? Did it go well?"

"It was alright, I guess," Drake said. "I know I can't expect him to be my best friend again. I did a lot of hurtful things, so I'm thankful that he even spoke to me. He was kinda judgmental and bitter, but he has every right to be. I was really upset about it yesterday, but Julio talked to me and reminded me that it would take Josh time before he could tell that I've really changed. Maybe one day he can forgive me."

"I don't think it'll take long for him to see that you've changed." She said this like she was speaking from experience. Alice used to hate Drake, too, but now she was so happy to have him in her life.

"He was really surprised to hear that me and you are friends."

Those words made her feel good inside. In front of her was a young man who had been through a lot — some of those things due to her negligence. He went from being an abuse victim to becoming an addict to attempting suicide to working on recovery to understanding that he was a survivor. Drake was a fighter and Mrs. Hayfer found that the time she spent with him over the summer was rewarding. It was hard for her to connect with her students these days and she sometimes felt that her hard work was in vein, but Drake had inadvertently proved her wrong. Now she was heading back into the new school year ready to make a difference in these kids' lives.

"He's still mad," the young man said, "about the science fair. Something about you not liking the font."

She burst into sudden laughter. "Oh my god! I only took off a couple points. It didn't even affect his overall score. There were four other judges and they all gave him perfect scores."

"Geez. I guess if he's still pissed at that, it's gonna be a really long time before he gets over what I did."

"He'll come around," Mrs. Hayfer said and she offer him an assuring smile.

* * *

Drake's eyes shot open when he felt a heavy weight on top of him. For a moment, he thought the last three and a half years had been one crazy Charlie trip and he was finally waking up to find himself back at his dad's. It didn't take him long to realize this wasn't true when he saw Julio laughing as he stood at the entrance to Mrs. Hayfer's living room. Drake then recognized that it was Ricardo laying on him. He groaned.

"Get off," he said tiredly. Since he was laying on his stomach, his face was being pressed against the couch, resulting in his voice being muffled slightly.

"You have a good nap?" Ricardo asked.

"You're squishing me," he complained.

"Dee and I fucked in your bed."

"Get off!" Drake couldn't move under his weight. He was always quick to get annoyed when Ricardo messed with him like this because it just reminded him how weak and puny he was.

"Make me."

The young man wiggled and squirmed, but he made no progress. "I can't breathe."

"If you couldn't breathe, you wouldn't be able to talk."

"You're hurting my ribs, asshole!"

Finally, Ricardo stood, but not before messing up his hair. Drake sat up with a wince and clutched his side. He was still sore from the beating those jerks had given him behind Flux.

"Fuck," he cursed quietly. "Ricky, you're such a fucking prick."

"Someone's grumpy," the man said to his brother, then he sat down next to him and wrapped an arm across his shoulder. He pulled his friend against him in a sort of half hug, which only irritated him further. "If it makes you feel better, we didn't really have sex in your bed. I was just fucking with you."

Drake shoved his hand away, then leaned forwards and rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes.

"Mrs. Hayfer said to tell you dinner's ready," Julio said.

"Come on. Let's go eat." Ricardo patted his knee as he stood, then left the living room.

After he was gone, Julio said, "I thought for sure you would tell him about you and Dahlia hooking up in his bed."

Drake tossed a pillow at him. "Shut up!" he hissed.

He left him alone so that he could get woken up without anyone bothering him, then he caught up to his brother. "He's annoyed as hell."

"Is he just tired from working or...?" the man whispered. "Or is something up with him?"

"He didn't really sleep much last night. I was having a hard time and he stayed up with me and talked me through it."

"Shit, I'm sorry. I knew going out drinking was a bad idea."

"No, it's okay. I wanted you two to have fun, you know? It was Dee's birthday. You deserve to celebrate."

"How are you feeling now?"

"I'm better," he said sincerely. "We went for a walk and talked and he really distracted me from myself. I went to a meeting this morning and he said he'd take me tonight after dinner."

"That's good." Ricardo gave his shoulder a prideful squeeze before entering the kitchen, where Mrs. Hayfer was setting the bowl of mashed potatoes down onto the table. "He's coming. It might take him a second."

"I didn't expect him to be out so long, but I let him sleep," she said.

"We were out late last night for Dee's birthday."

"Ah, did you enjoy yourselves?"

"Yes, ma'am, we did. Drake could've slept in like me and Dee, but these two decided to wake up early and stick hair removal strips all up our legs.

Mrs. Hayfer raised her eyebrows. "No!"

"They did. It was the worst 'good morning' ever."

She noticed Julio smirking and scolded him, though not seriously. "That's awful."

"If you think _that_ 's awful, you should've seen what they did to _me_. I got woken up to find a snake on top of me."

"Like a real snake?!" She was horrified.

"Yes! See?! They think I'm being a wimp," he said. "Snakes are evil. The devil literally was a snake before. I don't wanna be touched by them. I don't want them near me. I don't even wanna see them."

"I hope you got them back," she said, joining in on the fun.

"Well, I tried to get Drake by putting a bucket of spaghetti over the door, but then my brother walked in first and messed the whole thing up," said Julio, "so I had to settle for hitting Drake's groin, which turned out to be funny, too. I'm pretty sure he cried a little bit."

"You boys are rough." Alice was the first to notice her former student enter the kitchen. "There he is. Now we can all eat."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep and take up your living room."

"That's okay. I had a lot of chores around the house to catch up on."

They all sat down. Mrs. Hayfer never drank soda, but she had some in her refrigerator for when the boys would come to dinner. Usually, she stuck to wine, but when Julio was present, she had sweet tea. It had been a while since the four of them were able to sit down and share a meal together. Ricardo was busy with work a lot and Julio had never wanted to be around Drake and preferred getting black-out drunk instead. There was a lot of conversations to be had and a lot of catching up to do.

* * *

Drake lifted his eyes off of his book when his door opened and he saw Ricardo.

"Hey."

"You guys literally never knock."

The man ignored him. "Julio and I are gonna go see a movie. You coming?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Because of this response, Ricky knew why he was declining. He was giving Julio alone time with his brother. Otherwise, he would've asked which movie they were going to see because there were a couple of them out that he was excited for, like the new Tarantino film or some outer space flick. It was a sweet gesture for him to let them have a brothers' day and maybe it was necessary after Julio's struggles the other night.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I'm probably just gonna read today. Kinda been slacking off on that lately."

"Alright, well... You alright?"

"Yeah," he assured casually.

"Okay," Ricardo said. "We'll probably be home late. We might go eat and go to the mall afterwards or something. You sure you don't wanna join?"

"I'm sure."

He felt bad about leaving his friend home with only his two cats as company. "Last chance."

"Ricky, I'm serious. I just wanna stay home. Go have fun."

"Okay. I'll leave my phone on silent so you can still text—"

"I can just call Theo or Mrs. Hayfer if something happens."

The man went quiet for a moment, then said, "Damn, you not needing me anymore really hurts my feelings. I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to do with my life now?"

"I know. Now you actually have time to go out and do fun shit."

"Tragic." He smiled, then they were quiet for a couple moments.

"Okay, well, bye."

Ricardo scoffed. "You know what? Just for that..." He left the boy alone and headed downstairs, but he also left his door wide open.

Drake groaned as he stood and closed his door, disrupting his cats' slumber. He sat back in his place, but before he could start reading again, his phone dinged. He reached over and picked it up.

 **Clementine Martin: ignoring me is just gonna piss me off more. Idk why u cant respond to a bloody text**

The young man sighed, but he knew he couldn't talk to her. If he keeps ignoring her, she'll eventually give up on him, right? He put his phone back down and lifted his book once again.

* * *

"So how's the move?" Drake asked as he grabbed a slice of the hot and cheesy pizza Brett and Samantha had brought with them.

"We're still getting things unpacked, but it's nice," the girl said. "We're finally on our own. It's our first house, so we're just really excited."

"That's a huge accomplishment." He was sitting sideways on the couch while Sam sat next to him and her boyfriend ate in Ricardo's recliner. After he took a bite of the pizza, he said, "Mmm, this is so good. I'm starving."

"We thought you might've had lunch already," she said.

"No, Ricky forgot to leave my money and I've been too lazy to actually make anything." He took another bite, then picked up the can of Sprite and popped the tab.

"So what's new with you?" Brett asked.

"Not much, really. Just been doing rehearsals and hanging around on my off days. Nothing too exciting."

"What happened to your face?"

"Oh, yeah. Oh my god." He swallowed down the food in his mouth, then said, "Clem paid these guys to jump me."

Samantha's jaw dropped. "Oh my god! That's horrible!"

"Yeah, and she's still fucking texting me everyday asking why I'm ignoring her," Drake said.

"I never knew she was like this," the girl said. "I'm just so glad to be out of there and away from her. She always seemed so normal before you two got together, then...I don't know. She's fucking psycho."

"Ricky thinks if I just keep ignoring her, then she'll eventually give up."

"Yeah, I definitely wouldn't talk to her," said Brett. "She was trying to give us the hardest time for moving out. She was constantly hovering over me and bitching right in my ear. I couldn't even talk because I knew I would snap."

They all knew that Dahlia was acting frickin' nuts, but despite everything, Drake still loved her. Samantha could tell that the way they spoke about her was hurting his feelings, so she changed the subject.

"But anyway," she said, "I've been meaning to ask how your gig went."

"Oh, it was so good." This made him smile. "The crowd was into it and I got into it without having to be high and it was just nice being back up on stage playing music again. Julio said the owner texted him and wanted us to come back and do regular performances like we used to. He said he'd even let us have Saturdays, which is the busiest night."

"That's awesome," said Brett.

"We wanted to come," his girlfriend said, "but we already had those dinner plans with my parents."

"That's okay. Julio and I will let you know if we do it again," said Drake.

"If? You're not sure you want to?"

"We want to, but we just don't have a lot of time to practice. Maybe we can do a gig here and there, but it might be a while before we can do something regularly." Drake went in for his second slice of pizza. "You guys always got the good pizza. Ricky and Julio buy that cheap shit." He took a bite. "So how's work?"

* * *

"He might be sleeping," Julio said quietly as he entered his home. "All the lights are off. I can't see shit."

"He never locks the door," his older brother complained under his breath.

"Make sure the cats don't run out."

"I don't see 'em." He closed the door behind himself, then moments later, one of them flipped the foyer light switch.

"Shit!" a startled Julio exclaimed. "You're just sitting in the dark like that?"

Drake was on the couch with his kittens in his lap. He'd had no lights and no tv on. He'd just been sitting in the silence and darkness and that comforted him.

"You alright?" Ricky asked.

"Yeah."

"We brought food. We ate at Chili's."

He was hungry, so he stood and took the to-go box, expressing his gratitude.

"It's those honey chipotle tenders you like."

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" Julio couldn't get over this as he followed his friend into the kitchen. He had to turn on the light because Drake didn't bother to even though he needed to search for a fork and pour himself something to drink.

"Just relaxing while I had time by myself," he said.

There was something always going on, it seemed, in the Santos house. If it wasn't some huge catastrophe, then it was the current prank war or horse-playing or loud music. Drake needed a break from all the noise every once in a while. That's what Charlie used to help with, but he couldn't resort to that anymore.

"You guys have fun?" Drake sat down on one of the bar-stools and opened his to-go box. He immediately stabbed at one of the fingers and ravenously took a bite.

"Yeah, we did," Julio said. "I got another Drakation."

"Did he just say Drakation?" Ricardo asked.

Julio had come up with this term when his friend had stayed with Gemini for a week after things had gotten tense between him and Ricardo. "Yep. My vacation from Drake. My Drakation."

His big bro gave him props. "That's pretty good. I'm gonna start using that."

Drake rolled his eyes. "Douchebags," he mumbled under his breath, then he immediately received a slap on the back of his head by the homeowner. "Ah!" he hissed.

"Hush. I brought you food, didn't I?" Ricardo emptied his pockets and set everything on the island, then he moved towards the laundry room, unbuckling his belt along the way. He removed his jeans and grabbed his pajama pants, then Julio started laughing.

"Check out that sparkly leg," he teased as he nudged Drake's elbow. "It's so smooth that the light bounces off of it and hurts my eyes."

His friend laughed with him. Once Ricky got his pants up, he stomped towards his brother threateningly. Julio dashed into the foyer and up the stairs. Ricardo's tough guy act faded when the boy was gone.

"I'm gonna get you back for this."

Drake sounded unbothered. "Wait 'til I'm done eating." He took another bite. He'd left the juice out, so Ricardo picked it up and poured himself a glass, then took a seat in one of the stools.

"What'd you do today?"

"Nothing really. Mostly read. Sam and Brett came over with pizza and we hung out. They left about an hour ago."

"They move into the new house yet?"

"Yeah."

The man drank some of his drink and silence filled the room. Drake seemed awfully quiet to him and his answers were short other than when Ricky'd asked what he'd done today. Not giving him details would've been suspicious although it wasn't a rule. Still, it was a courtesy.

"You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," he said.

He watched his friend with squinted eyes for a moment, then said, "You're quiet."

Drake shrugged.

"Come on. Spill. Julio's taken all of my Drake cry-sessions. What's going on with you?"

"It's really nothing," the young man said. "I've just been thinking, but it's not a big thing and it's not really something to cry about."

"What is it?"

Drake swallowed some of the apple juice so he wouldn't have to answer right away. It wasn't a big secret or anything, but he wasn't sure how the Santos brothers would react. "Ever since the other night...when I saw Josh..."

Ricardo understood immediately. "It got you thinking about home."

He gave a small nod.

"Which side of the fence are you on right now?"

"I don't know. I wanna go back. I wanna see my mom and my sister. Josh said my mom's not mad, but I don't know. I just keep trying to picture how things would go down. I just feel like she's gonna yell at me the second she sees me. I know I totally fucking deserve it." He went quiet for a moment before speaking again, softer this time. "I don't know. I don't think I could handle being rejected twice, you know? Maybe it's just best to leave things how they are."

"You really think your mom would do that?"

"I don't know," Drake said. "I never expected them to put me out on the streets in the first place, but they've done it, like, three times."

"You think that was your mom's choice, though? You don't think Mr. Nichols was behind that?"

"You think I should go back."

"I'm not saying that," Ricardo denied. "I'm just trying to talk this over with you — come up with some pros and cons. Maybe she did want you out. You know her more than I do. I just know she fought really hard trying to see you when you were both in the hospital."

"So...worst case scenario..."

His friend stayed quiet and just listened.

"Josh was wrong. She hates me and she never wants to see me again, then I come back feeling like shit. If that happens...then that's it. I've single-handedly turned both of my parents against me. I've lost both of them. Well, I've already lost both of them, but this would make it permanent."

"Best case scenario?"

"Best case scenario...she doesn't hate me," Drake said. "I don't even need her to love me. I just don't want her to hate me. I just hope that I'll be given the chance to say..." What could be say? He could apologize to her over and over again for the rest of his life and it would never be enough. "...to tell her how sorry I am." His voice cracked. Drake stopped talking and Ricardo remained silent as well, giving him time to gather his composure. Half a minute passed before the younger boy spoke again. "I guess this _is_ gonna be a Drake cry-fest."

"That's okay," his friend assured.

However, Drake was able to cease his tears before they started. "If she's willing to even talk to me, then I have to figure out how to deal with that. If she grills me like Josh did...or even harder..."

"Maybe — and I mean, this is just a suggestion. But if you're gonna attempt to rebuild that relationship, maybe consider the whole, complete truth. What's a relationship if you've rebuilt it with a stack of lies?" he asked, giving the boy something to mull over. "Again, that's just an idea. I don't want to sound like I'm pushing you any kinda way."

"I know. You're not," he said. "So what's after that?"

"Let's say...she's totally accepting of you. What does that mean for you?"

"Well...then there's Megan, so there's a chance that she might not forgive me."

"That is a possibility, but does that mean you should give up? I mean, Mrs. Hayfer hated you for a long time, right? Now you got her cooking five-star meals for you every other weekend." It was a small joke to lighten the mood, but his roommate was too focused on his potential future.

"If...somehow...they're both willing to give me another chance to prove myself...that's just the beginning. There's the possibility of Mindy still living there. There's a kid to think about. Am I allowed to show up and suddenly be a dad? Do I even want that? Am I allowed to show up and not take any responsibility? Maybe there's another guy in the mix who's playing daddy. What if this kid doesn't even like me? I fucking abandoned her. She's three years old and she's never met me. I don't even know her name. I don't even know my own daughter's name."

Ricardo kindly offered, "Would you like me to tell you?" He said it without judgement.

Drake was beginning to feel anxious and panicky. "No." Hearing it would only make it more real.

It was hard to fathom the idea that he had a kid when he'd been absent during her entire life and the pregnancy. He was just as bad as his own father, yet Martin stayed. When his mom and Walter kicked him out that first time, his dad welcomed him. When Drake ran away and almost died of pneumonia, his dad welcomed him. When everyone else wrote him off because of his addiction, his dad welcomed him. He may not have been the nicest person, but at least he was there.

"Are you on the verge of a panic attack?" Ricardo asked calmly.

"I don't know." His nerves were definitely shot, but he wasn't sure if he was just normal nervous or anxiety-attack nervous.

"Let's take a break. Let's focus on something else."

"I think it's okay. I just need to smoke."

Ricardo followed the boy out front and Drake picked up where they left off after taking a few drags.

"And Walter definitely hates me. If he answers the door, he might not even let me see my mom."

"Let's try focusing on the pros now. What's something positive that could come of this?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Drake was biting his thumbnail in between hits. "Well, maybe my mom and Megan will talk to me again. Maybe they'll give me the chance to tell them I'm clean. Maybe Mom really does love me unconditionally and she lets me be apart of the family again."

The Santos brothers were family. They would always be family and Drake was so, so grateful that they had taken him in, but they weren't his mom and they weren't his sister. They could never replace his real blood relatives.

"So I guess," Ricardo started, "that just leaves you with a decision to make. You can go and get the door slammed in your face, but say you at least tried. You can go and get accepted with open arms. If that happens, are you willing to step up and be a father or are you willing to refuse responsibility and accept the possible judgement? Both are an option. You _can_ say no, but they might not like that."

Drake sighed shakily and a cloud of smoke left his lips. "I just wanna see my mom," he said with vulnerability.

"I know."

"I miss her so fucking much."

Ricardo put a hand on his shoulder for support. "I know you do."

* * *

 _(1 week later)_

"Have you looked at it?" Drake asked. He was nervous and his friend could hear it in his voice.

"No." Ricardo unlocked his office door and they stepped inside, then he closed it behind him. He went around his desk, then sat down in his computer chair. He paused and turned back to Drake. "You sure?"

The boy took a breath, then let it out slowly. "Yeah."

There was a safe on the wall. Ricky picked another key from his busy key-chain, then stuck it inside the designated hole. He turned it, then opened the safe door. There was cash inside for the most part, but that's not what they were here for. He reached his arm into the back and retrieved a small, folded up napkin. This was the one Meelah's parents had given to Drake — the one Drake had thrown in the trash. It had his mom's current address on it. At the time, he'd thought it best to leave her out of his chaotic life, but he was doing better now and he needed her to know that.

Drake took the napkin when it was handed to him. His heart fluttered with a mixture of fear and excitement. He couldn't begin to explain how happy he was to see his mom again. He just hoped she felt the same way.

Ricardo waited in silence, giving his friend time to either shoo away any last minutes doubts or change his mind. He'd told him plenty of times already that he'd support him no matter what he chose. He really thought it would be great for Drake to reconcile with his mother and sister. However, there was a huge chance that things would go poorly. Drake's grown a lot in the past few months, though, so he hopefully had the strength to move on if this happened. Ricardo prayed it didn't happen. He watched the boy, who wore his emotions all over his face. Drake sighed and seemed to tell himself 'fuck it' before unfolding the napkin. Upon finally seeing the address, his expression went from relief to fear to anger to sadness to confusion.

Finally, Ricardo spoke up. "What is it?"

"This is my dad's address."

The man stood and looked at the napkin with him. "Meelah's parents wouldn't have lied about where she was staying."

"No, I know. I just..." He looked almost hurt as if his mom sleeping where Martin slept was a betrayal. "Why there?"

"It's been three years. Anything could've happened. They could've had problems with the house. Maybe they had money issues."

"But why _there_?" Drake asked again, now more clearly upset. "Why there specifically?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe your dad had a will and he left the trailer to your mom or maybe your sister."

"I don't wanna go back there."

"You don't have to," Ricardo assured. "There are other ways. We can get her phone number from Josh and you can call her. You can invite her over or meet her at a diner."

However, his friend was hardly listening. "Do you think she's on drugs?"

"What?"

"She was taking Xanax when I left. I disappeared after a bunch of hardcore dealers almost killed us all and she's probably spent years wondering if I was dead or living on the streets or something. It could've stressed her out to the point where she wanted something stronger and maybe that's why they had money issues and had to move into my dad's shitty neighborhood. Drugs are fucking everywhere there."

"Okay. Okay, okay," he said calmly. He gripped the boy's biceps to ground him because he saw that his friend was freaking out. "You're jumping to conclusions, right?"

It took a moment for Drake to realize he expected an answer. "Right."

"Let's just take a step back. Maybe something happened — it's a possibility — or maybe you're just overthinking things. There was never any proof to indicate that your mom abused those pills. I don't think she would do that after seeing what you went through. I think she was really stressed out about not knowing where you were and if you were alright. Your mother's a strong woman and she had two other kids she had to be strong for. I don't think she would've allowed herself to lose herself."

Drake absorbed this information slowly because his mind was still running a mile a minute. He started to nod. "Okay."

"Okay?"

He nodded some more.

"Do you still wanna go through with this today?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. You want me to get Josh's number from Dee?"

He was quiet for a moment. "No. I'll just go."

"You're gonna go to the house?"

He needed to see for himself. "Yeah."

* * *

He'd smoked the cigarette all the way down to the butt, taking comfort in the searing burn he felt in the back of his throat. This was his third cigarette and it was beginning to become apparent to Ricardo that he was stalling. Still, he let him. They were parked at the gas station right outside of his dad's old neighborhood. Across the street was that familiar park. The last time he was here was after he cheated on Clementine with Coach Tad and stayed the night here getting high. That was a little over four months ago. It felt like forever.

Ricky turned his head to the right when the passenger's side door opened. He watched his friend get in. Still, he said nothing. He didn't want to persuade Drake one way or the other. He waited for him to speak.

"Okay, I'm ready."

He cranked his car, then pulled out of the lot and started down that familiar street. Drake hasn't gone as far as the park since the night his father passed. Ricardo went back for him and packed some clothes in the backpack his friend always carried around. Not much would fit, but that wasn't an issue. When he'd gone into his room, Ricky had been surprised to find that there was very little in his closet and drawers. This was because Martin had destroyed all of his son's belongings after a huge blow up just weeks before his death. At that time, Drake only had the few articles of clothing that the man had let him borrow. Ricardo hadn't known that's who they belonged to, so his friend got upset when he saw them. He went out and bought a couple things for him, then Walter got him some clothes as well when his step-son had moved in. Ricardo never threw away Martin's clothes. Instead, he kept them at home just in case Drake needed them and, one day, he did need them. It had been Drake's first Father's Day without his dad and he'd just finally gotten clean hardly a month before. He was going through a hard time and he missed his dad and none of the comfort his friends were offering him could compare to what it felt like to be close to his dad. That's when Ricky had given him Martin's old clothes. Drake broke down, but he was so incredibly appreciative. He still had those clothes tucked away in the back of a drawer and, sometimes, when he missed his father bad enough, he would take them out and hold them or even put them on.

"God, I'm fucking sweating." Drake wiped his hands off on his jeans, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference.

Ricardo didn't pull into the driveway just in case the boy wanted to bail last minute. Instead, he parked on the curb in front of the house.

"I'm just gonna go before I change my mind."

"Alright, I'll wait here."

"You don't have to do that. I mean, if she doesn't slam the door in my face. I don't know how long I'll be."

"It's okay. I don't mind waiting. If the conversation goes well and you think you're gonna stay a while, you can text me and I'll leave and then come back and pick you up, but seriously, I'll wait. If it feels like it could go either way, I'd rather be here the second you're ready to leave than risk you walking home and instead going somewhere you shouldn't."

Drake understood. "Thanks, Ricky," he said. "For everything."

Without Ricardo, he never would've been able to get clean and therefore wouldn't have had the guts to come here. Finally, he was going to see his mom again and this was only possible because of the hard work he and his brother had put in.

He gave the boy a squeeze on the shoulder. "You got this."

Drake nodded. He took in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. After that, he opened the door.

Walking up that familiar driveway was almost dizzying. In a flash, old memories flooded his brain. He remembered a young Megan playing with her chalk while Drake was forced to stay on the steps. This was after his dad had stopped locking him in the closet every weekend. Maybe Megan had seen it happen or something. He wasn't so sure about why he was given that tiny bit of freedom. He just remembered getting out of the truck one day and crossing the yard with a sense of extreme dread. He was heading straight for that closet without argument, but Martin snatched his shoulder and ordered him to stay on the steps. It wasn't much bigger than the closet, but at least Drake could stretch out and he got to sit in the sun and talk to Megan and, sometimes, she would draw close enough to the steps so that he could draw, too. Martin didn't seem to mind this when he caught him because it made his daughter happy. Gradually, Drake was allowed more freedom. Eventually, he was given more space to play in as long as he didn't get in his father's way. He could play in the front yard or the back yard or the bedroom. He never followed Megan when she took her toys to the living room, but he didn't mind playing alone because at least he got to play. Despite things getting better, he was still punished often. Sometimes he was beaten, sometimes he was sent to his room and wasn't given food and, sometimes, he still got locked in the closet. Sometimes he got so into playing that he unintentionally became too loud or sometimes he and his sister would start arguing or something like that. Sometimes he didn't do anything at all. Sometimes, for no reason, he would be yanked up and forced to drop his toys and he would be roughly and rapidly pulled into the bedroom so fast that he would trip over his own feet. Next came the bathroom, then the closet. It would all happen so fast and sometimes he didn't even know what he'd done wrong.

Being born. That's what he'd done wrong. He knew it now.

 _Come on, stop. You've gotta fucking stop this. Stop thinking about Dad or you're gonna fuck this up._ He tried to push those thoughts to the back of his mind and, somehow, it worked. He took another deep breath as he ascended the three steps. He paused right there in front of the door. This was it. Last chance to leave. If he didn't do this, he'd never have to know whether or not his mom hated him or Megan hated him or his daughter hated him. He wished he would've remembered to ask Ricardo what the kid's name was now so he didn't sound so fucking stupid.

 _Knock!_ He froze. _Shit! This is a mistake. Nope. You've already fucking started. Gotta finish now._ He began again. _Knock! Knock! Knock!_ It was somewhat quiet because part of him didn't want anyone to hear it and answer the door. However, he heard muffled footsteps approaching.

"Fuck," he exhaled nervously.

He looked down at himself to make sure he looked alright. He knew he did. He'd picked this outfit out yesterday after going through his closet over and over and over again. He combed his fingers through his hair to make sure nothing was out of place, then he wiped more sweat off of his palms as he bounced on the balls of his heels. By the time the door opened, he was shaking. He couldn't help it. He lifted his head and met his mother's eyes. God, he'd missed her so much. She looked the same as he'd always remembered although her orange hair was graying a bit more around the bangs and she had more wrinkles on her face due to all the stress her addicted son had caused her. She wore a soft yellow shirt underneath denim overalls and she had pink gloves with blue and green watering cans on them in one hand like maybe she was going outside to garden. She was beautiful. She was the most beautiful person he knew, inside and out. How someone like him had even spawned from someone like her was a mystery.

Drake watched all the emotions present themselves on her face. Some were good; some not so much. He wasn't sure how long they'd stood there in silence, just staring at one another, but the silence was finally broken.

 _SMACK!_

His head turned to the side with the slap. The sound was still ringing in his ears and his cheek was on fire. That was it. He had his answer. Josh had lied. She hated him. His own mother hated him. His heart fell into his stomach. _I shouldn't have come here. I should never have fucking come here! What the fuck was I thinking?! I'm so fucking stupid! I—_

Suddenly, his thoughts melted away when he felt her wrap her arms around him and squeeze him tightly. He hugged back and when he felt her holding him like she did when he was a kid, he broke down into deep, body-shaking sobs. He wanted to say something — maybe to apologize or tell her that he was clean or anything — but when he opened his mouth, all that came out were more sobs, these more audible. He sounded pathetic and he knew it. He was a grown man, yet he was standing here trembling so violently that he was shaking her and bawling so loudly that the entire world probably heard.

It took a couple minutes of this before he could finally speak, his voice coming out strangled. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry," he whined. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Once he started, he couldn't stop. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." It's like he was apologizing for each individual thing he'd ever done wrong in his life. This would take a while.

"It's okay, baby."

Hearing her voice again for the first time in years sent another fit of sobs through him. When he was little, she used to sing to him all the time. She would sing to him in the car, while she cooked, when it was time for him to go to sleep. Perhaps this was where his love for music came from. God, how he missed the sound of her voice. When he could speak again, he continued apologizing profusely.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay," she assured.

Here she was telling him that everything he had done was okay. She was telling him that her love was unconditional. Within seconds, she had forgiven him for every bad thing he'd ever done.

Audrey pushed him back so she could examine her son to see how he'd changed over the years. He kept his head low with shame as he continued to cry. It wasn't until she spoke again that he realized she was weeping as well.

"I've missed you so much, sweetie."

"I've missed you, too." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry about everything. Please don't hate me."

"Hate you?!" She seemed surprised that this was even something that was running through his head. "I could _never_ hate you. _Ever_. You're my baby boy."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I'm a bad son."

"No, baby, you're not a bad son." She saw that he needed another hug and gave him one, which was fine because she needed one, too, "I've been a bad mother."

Hearing the guilt in her voice made his heart break. "You're not. You're the best mom I could've ever asked for. You always tried. You tried so fucking hard and _I_ fucked up. _I_ did."

"I was wondering if you'd come," she said. "Janine and George told me several months ago that they ran into you at the cemetery. They said they gave you my address. I was waiting for you, but you never came."

"I'm sorry. I just... I'm just sorry," he said. "I thought you hated me. I was scared."

"Oh, honey..." Again, she pulled away and, this time, she got to see her son's eyes. She placed her hand on his cheek and wiped away his tears with her thumb. Now it was her turn to apologize. "I'm sorry. I never should've made you feel that way."

"You didn't. I'm the one who broke everything."

Her sparkling eyes gazed into his and she smiled wide. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you." Her words made him smile, too.

"Sorry," a voice interrupted and despite having not heard it in years, Drake recognized her immediately: Kenzly. "I just got her to sleep."

"Thank you, Kenzly," Audrey said.

"Hey," Drake said, wiping his eyes with embarrassment.

She glanced at her former best friend, but only for a moment. In that moment, she offered a small, forced smile. She clearly felt awkward for disrupting their reunion and she also didn't care to talk to him after he cut her out of his life to appease Dahlia. This was an unexpected scenario that he and Ricardo hadn't gone over, but luckily, he didn't have to deal with it quite yet.

"You don't have to drop me off. I'll walk."

"You don't have to do that. It's right up the road. Drake can wait, right?" She looked at her son. "Or ride with us?"

"Sure," he tried to say casually although he was still sniffling and weeping.

"No, it's okay." Before the woman could protest, she moved past Drake and headed down the porch steps. "See you later."

"Okay. Text me and let me know that you got there safely."

"I will."

When his ex was out of earshot, Drake said, "You still talk to Kenzly?"

"I do. She babysits while I'm at work. She's been so much help." Audrey saw her as a second daughter since she'd been friends with her son for so long. "She contacted Megan on Facebook about a year ago. She said she had nowhere to go and asked if she could stay here until her mom broke up with her boyfriend." She knew about the abusive man her mom couldn't seem to part with and she was always more than willing to provide Kenzly with a place to stay. "She stayed on and off for a while, but it was happening so often that I invited her to stay permanently, so she's been living here for many months."

Drake felt incredibly guilty. Things didn't end will between himself and Kenzly. Her mom's shitty boyfriend had moved back in, so Ricardo said it was okay for Kenzly to stay there. She slept on the couch because Drake was with Clementine at the time. He tried to keep it from his girlfriend for as long as possible because he knew that douchebag would walk out on his friend's mom again just like he always did and then Kenzly would go back just like she always did. However, his girlfriend found out one day when she showed up unannounced and she was livid. Dahlia started hitting him and Kenzly tried to stop her because she knew Drake wouldn't lay a hand on her. This infuriated his girlfriend further. Ricardo and Julio ran downstairs pretty quickly and broke up the one-sided fight between Drake and his girlfriend, then sent Clem on her way. Drake, of course, went after her despite the blood gushing from his nose. He tried to explain and apologize. There was more screaming, more hitting, more name-calling, but eventually, she said she was willing to give his sorry ass another chance if he stopped being friends with his best friend. She gave him an ultimatum: her or Kenzly. Obviously, he chose Dahlia, but he always felt guilty for how things went down.

He turned and looked at the girl, who paused when her name was called. She walked over to Ricardo's car and leaned over to speak through the passenger's side window for a moment, then she got in.

"Who's your friend?" Audrey asked with concern for the girl's safety.

"It's just Ricky."

"Oh, Ricardo." She saw him now as he drove past. "I always liked him and his brother. You still talk to them?"

"Yeah." He wasn't quite ready to tell her that he lived with them just in case things took a sudden turn for the worst.

"I was always so thankful that he stayed with you while I was in the hospital."

Somehow, Drake just now remembered. "You're not in a wheelchair anymore."

"Nope." She grinned.

"How?"

"A _lot_ of physical therapy. Now I'm as good as new."

This made him feel so happy to hear. He still did almost kill her, so he wasn't completely letting himself off the hook, but he was glad that he didn't totally fuck up her life.

"I'm still old and tired, though, so why don't we go inside and sit down?" She turned to open the door, but stopped when she heard his voice.

"Um..."

When she looked at him again, she saw it. She saw his discomfort and she saw the memories running through his head. When she'd first moved in here, she would wonder what areas her son had been beaten in — where he had been raped. She remembered the day her and Megan walked through for the first time before moving in. The carpet hadn't been changed. There was a permanent trail that she assumed was blood and it led down the hallway and to the room that used to belong to her ex husband. When she opened the bedroom door, she'd lost her breath. There were multiple, giant, aged blood stains. She wondered which had belonged to Martin and which had belonged to Drake. She couldn't imagine the horror her son had faced that night. She wasn't able to go in that room again until Walter and Josh pulled up the carpet. The blood had been so heavy that it had soaked through in some places and stained the wood flooring.

They got new carpet and they scrubbed and repainted the walls to rid them of stubborn blood splatters and although it looked fine now, they could never erase the tragedy that had taken place here.

"We could sit right here on the steps," his mother offered, but he could see her sweating already and he knew it would be uncomfortable for her.

"No." He shook his head. "No, it's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he said nervously.

The first thing he noticed when he walked through the door was the smell. It was different. It used to reek of alcohol. Now he smelled cucumber melon candles and potpourri. The kitchen was the same for the most part, but the small two-person table that used to be up against one of the walls was gone and replaced by the dining room table from the old house. The living room furniture was also from there. Picture frames lined the hallway walls that led to the bedrooms, but he wasn't willing to go far enough to see whose photos were in them.

"Can I get you something to drink or eat?"

"No, thanks."

She led him to the living room and motioned for him to take a seat on the love-seat, then she sat next to him. Audrey could see his eyes moving around the room, but she wasn't sure if he was searching for changes or something familiar. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, still not looking at her. "Yeah, it's just...I never thought..."

He never thought he'd come back here. She could understand that.

"I'm sorry," Drake said. "Can we go back outside?" He was standing before she had time to answer and he was on his way out the door before she got on her feet. Once outside, he lit up a cigarette. "I'm sorry," he repeated when she caught up.

"Don't be sorry." To his surprise, she picked up her own pack and an ashtray that was sitting on the corner of the porch and started smoking as well.

"It's just hard...being back here."

"I know. Don't worry about it. We can stay out here or I have a garden out back with places to sit down."

Drake thought that this was okay, so the two walked around the house. He sat down at the patio table while his mother propped the back door open so she could hear if the toddler woke and started moving about.

"Where is everyone?" the young man asked.

"Megan's at her friend's right now."

"What about Walter and Josh?"

"Walter and I are divorced, sweetie," she said as if it hurt Drake more than her.

"Oh," he sad sadly and she could see the thoughts running through his head.

"It has nothing to do with you. I admitted to cheating on him with your father and we just couldn't work things out."

Drake could remember walking in on this. He'd promised her he wouldn't say anything and he didn't. The last time he spoke up about something like that, his entire life got fucked up. Maybe if he never would've said anything, then Martin wouldn't have hated him and maybe he wouldn't have started drinking and hitting and sexually assaulting him and maybe Drake never would've started using drugs and maybe they could've all lived happily ever after.

"What about Mindy?" he asked.

"She left a long time ago — back when we were still at the old house."

"She left our kid?" He didn't mean it in a judgmental way. He'd abandoned his daughter, too, but he never expected Mindy to do this. He'd tried to convince her to have an abortion and she wouldn't, so why go through with it and then bail?

"She got back on meth," Audrey said sadly.

Drake couldn't stop himself before he said, "Shit."

"I think the stress of having a baby got to her. She tried to keep both at first, but after a few months, she ended up choosing the drugs."

It was his fault she started using in the first place. He shouldn't have introduced her to it. He and Rhinestone were just having fun and they needed more cash to keep their drug-fueled weekend going and Mindy had cash. He never should've called her that night. She got her first taste of meth then. That was the only time she ever did it with Drake and it was a while before she used again, but he knew that night that Mindy had enjoyed the drug a little too much.

"Oh, honey, it's not your fault." She frowned when she saw his eyes water over again.

"Isn't it, though? I'm the one who gave it to her. I ruined her life."

Mindy was the smartest person back in high school — smarter than Josh even. She could've gotten into Harvard if that's what she wanted. She could've had all the good colleges fighting over her. She graduated high school, then she spent that summer with Drake so that she could get extra credit. She ended up with a baby, a drug habit and a criminal record. That summer ruined her. Drake ruined her.

"What about you?" his mother asked with something that sounded like nervousness. "Are you still using?"

"No, I quit. I'm clean."

This made her smile with pride. "Good. Oh, I'm so glad." She grabbed his free hand and squeezed to pull his attention away from Mindy. "How long's it been?"

"A little over a month," he said. "I know it's not much, but—"

"No, it's great," she said and he could tell she really meant it. With Josh, he never bothered to really go into detail about it because the judgement was immediate, but there was no judgement coming from his mom — only pride.

"I, uh...I was clean for a really long time. For almost two and a half years. I had a few mild slip-ups during it, but I was able to bounce back pretty quickly for the most part. I had over nine months of sobriety in my pocket, which was the longest I've ever gone, and then I really messed up. I relapsed and..."

He always knew this moment would come if he decided to face his mom. He never knew how much detail he should go into. Ricardo suggested telling the truth, but surely he didn't mean all the grotesque details.

"...it got really bad, Mom." Great. Now he was crying again. If she couldn't tell before, then she definitely knew now that he was a crybaby. "Like, _really_ bad." He kept his head low. "I've been so scared of facing you because I didn't know how to tell you...or if I should..."

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, honey."

"I did a lot of... You'd be so disappointed if you knew..." He sniffled. "I'm so ashamed."

"But you're clean now," Audrey said, assuring him that she didn't care about the bad stuff.

"Yeah." Drake nodded and wiped his eyes.

"Come here." Audrey pulled his head onto her shoulder and rubbed his back. "It's okay, baby." She kissed the hair on the side of his head. "It's okay."

He was reminded of a time when he was much younger. He was riding his bike with some boys he sometimes played with down the street. Audrey had been outside "fixing up the yard." This really meant that she was keeping an eye on the kids, but Drake wanted to be independent and always got mad when she hovered over him, especially around his friends, whose parents didn't stand out there watching _them_. One time, he was racing this older boy. He'd gained a lot of speed and they were neck-and-neck, but then Megan stepped out into the street without even looking and Drake was forced to tightly grasp the emergency brake handle. This send him flying forwards and he flipped over his handle bars. It hurt like hell, but he was used to pain at that point in his life. Nothing came close to his dad's fists. He didn't cry although the sting on his skinned palms and knees made his eyes water over. Audrey was by his side within seconds, checking his wounds and trying to sooth him as if he were screaming bloody murder. She pulled him close and kept kissing his head. This embarrassed the hell out of him because he knew the other kids would tease him, so he wiggled his way out of her grip and got back on his bike, assuring her that he was fine and urging her to leave him alone.

Now he desperately needed the comfort of her soft voice and her warm embrace and her healing kisses. He didn't care how pathetic and childish it was. He needed his mom.

"I'm so ashamed," he said through his whining. "I'm so fucking ashamed."

"It's okay. It's okay, honey. It's okay."

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to spill everything so that she could clean up the mess he'd made and cover the damage with a nice Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles band-aid. That always fixed everything when he was a kid.

"It's been so hard without you," he said.

"I'm sorry Walter made you go. You know I never would've let him do that had I been there."

Drake would never forget the man's harsh last words to him. _I wish you the best of luck and I love you._ Drake had begged and begged and begged and begged, but his step-father refused to give in. One thing that scared the boy, possibly even more than his abusive dad, was loneliness. In one night, his entire life fell apart and he lost everything. Being alone for what he expected to be the end of his life was devastating and that's why he went back to Tad's. He was willing to sacrifice his dignity, self-respect, morality and personal boundaries just to not be lonely and Tad had taken real good care of him. Well, he couldn't exactly remember much from his time there, but _some_ one had fed him, bathed him and cleaned up his puke and his piss and his shit whenever he was too fucked up to remember how to walk to the bathroom. He was so ashamed of himself and he couldn't bring himself to admit all this to his mom. This wasn't even his lowest point in life. He'd done so much worse. So, so much worse.

"I love you so much," he said, his voice muffled because his head was buried in the crook of her neck.

"I love you, too," his mother said back. "More than anything."

A couple more minutes passed before he got control of himself again. He pulled away from her, but still kept his head low as he wiped his eyes and sniffled frequently. "I'm sorry. I cry too much."

"It's okay," she said.

"It's so embarrassing."

"Hey." Audrey reached over and took his hand in hers. "Don't feel embarrassed. There's nothing wrong with crying."

"I know. It's just..." He'd rubbed his eyes so much that the skin felt raw and painful. "Dad always said..." Another sniffle. "I don't know."

"Well, he was wrong." She sounded so confident and it almost made Drake believe her. "About everything."

"I know," he lied. He tried to dab at his eyes with his shirt sleeve to see if that was any better, but it hardly made a difference. "Sorry, I don't know why... I shouldn't have...brought him up."

"I think that was part of the problem," she said. "After he passed and you were living back at home, everyone felt uncomfortable when you mentioned him. It was new to us and we had no idea how we were supposed to respond or help. We tried to ignore it and pretend like it never happened. We thought that's what you wanted and what you needed, but we were wrong. We should've let you talk about him freely. We should've listened."

"It's okay, Mom."

"It's been over three years since I've seen you and I've had so much time to think — to go over everything that I handled poorly."

He could tell because she approached things differently now. Unlike Josh, she was proud of his one month of sobriety despite the fact that he'd been gone for over three years. Unlike Josh, she didn't bombard him with questions about work or school or financial stability or anything like that. She no longer measured success in that way. Audrey was totally proud of her step-son for going to college, starting a career, getting an apartment and finding love. Those were all huge, huge accomplishments, but she was also proud of Drake's month-long sobriety and that made him successful in her eyes. The two boys had always been different. Josh was book-smart and friendly and generous; Drake was musically talented, charming and tender-hearted (although he always hid this). They were always heading for different paths, but it didn't mean that one path was greater than the other. Both were doing exceptionally well and she was proud of both of their differing successes and milestones.

"But I want you to know now," she continued, "that if you ever want to talk about anything — your father, your addiction, your struggles, anything — I'm willing to listen and learn and I promise I won't judge."

"Thank you," Drake said. "You have no idea—" Sniffle. "—how much that means to me."

"You said you were clean for most of two and a half years?" She asked, "How did you get clean?"

This actually made the boy laugh a little bit through his tears. "Ricky kidnapped me," he answered.

Audrey didn't fully understand yet, but hearing his laughter made her smile anyway. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'd just gotten out of the hospital...for an overdose..." He wasn't sure if he should've said this, but it seemed like she was keeping her word about not judging. "—and he made me come stay with him. He kept me on a short leash. He put bars on the window in the guest bedroom and locked me in every night. For a month straight, he wouldn't let me out of his sight. Like, for anything. Not for showers or bathroom breaks. Kinda embarrassing and degrading, but I would've ran off to get high and he knew it, so I guess it was necessary. He dragged me to work with him. Everyone who works there has issues. He's a big believer in second chances because he's done things when he was younger that he's not proud of, so a lot of the people who work there have criminal records. Everyone was like a family, even the regular customers. He used to make me sit right there at the bar his entire shift every time he worked so that there were at least three sets of eyes on me at all times making sure I didn't try to sneak out. As time passed, my mindset changed and I started putting in the work to stay clean myself. He saw that and gradually started to give me more freedom. After that, we started learning how to handle things together. He stopped yelling so much and I stopped lying about when I wanted to use. He and Julio were always there to talk me down. I just had to learn how to be honest with them about what I was feeling. When I slipped up, they'd sit me down and remind me why I got clean and we'd start over."

"That's really good!" Audrey said with a big smile as she squeezed his hand. "I was so worried that you were sleeping in alleyways and eating out of trash cans."

He'd definitely been there at one point, but he didn't vocalize this.

"Oh, I'm so glad you have such caring friends."

"Me, too. They saved my life. More than once."

"I wish I would've been there for you like they were."

"It's okay, Mom. You tried. I wouldn't let you. I think I just had to hit rock bottom before I was willing to listen," he said, "and then I had to hit it a couple more times." Drake let out a short chuckle as if this was funny to him, then his face twisted into a frown as he wiped away a fresh tear and sniffled.

Audrey offered silent comfort by rubbing her thumb gently across the top of his hand, which she was still holding. When he reached up to dry his eyes again, her attention was drawn to the words on his left forearm. "You have a tattoo."

He followed her gaze, then stretched out his arm to see what she was looking at as if he'd never looked at it before. It read WAR IS OVER IF YOU WANT IT. It was from a John Lennon song. She knew he loved The Beatles, so she recognized it immediately. In fact, she was the one who had showed him his first Beatles song. She could remember it clearly. Drake always had a love for music, even as a toddler, so she always used to turn something on to occupy him while she tidied up the house. At two years old, he used to wave his arms about or drum on the floor and table and couch and anything he could, but when he heard "I Want To Hold Your Hand" for the first time, he stood up and started dancing in his diaper. At that age, dancing, to him, was bending his knees and bouncing up and down vigorously because he couldn't quite jump yet, but he couldn't tell that he wasn't jumping. When Audrey saw him, she went over to join him. His happiness had been contagious. His baby-toothed grin was huge when she started boogieing down next to him and his uncontrollable laugh made her more joyful than anything else.

Drake had come such a long way from those days. It was hard to imagine how someone could take a cheery child like that and treat him the way Martin had. He'd ruined their son's spirit. Drake used to be so happy and his happiness could light up a room. The abuse took that away. Sometimes when she laid awake in bed at night thinking so much that she couldn't fall asleep, she would ache over the confusion her kid must've felt the first time his father hit him and left him alone in the closet for two days. That confusion broke her heart more than anything. Every weekend, he would wonder what he'd done to deserve such a cruel punishment. He would sit there for forty-eight hours in complete isolation. All he could do to pass the time was obsess over why his daddy hated him. Every harsh insult and vulgar name Martin would call his son would get drilled into his head until he himself believed them and they still stuck with Drake to this day.

The young man responded to her statement, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Yeah, I have three actually." He stretched out his other arm so that she could see the outer space tattoo on that forearm.

"Oh, wow..."

She admired the mixture of colors: purple, blue, green and orange. They all blended together to make a galaxy that looked like cigarette smoke with the silhouettes of each planet in a straight line all the way from the bend of his arm to his wrist. As she examined the black circles further, she started to notice something: little ridges that ranged in length — several horizontal ones that weren't fully covered (which is how she noticed) and one lengthy one that went right up the middle of his forearm, passing through each planet.

Drake could tell by her expression that she saw it. "I, um..." He didn't know what to say. How was he supposed to tell his mom that he'd hated himself so much he wanted to die? Luckily, he didn't have to.

"How many times?"

"Just twice," he assured and it was probably the weirdest thing he'd ever said. _Just twice, Mom. I just tried to kill myself twice, but it's no big deal._

"So the time you took a bunch of pills back at our old house and then this time?" she said, motioning towards the scars on his wrist.

"Oh...well, I guess...if you're counting that time right after Meelah died..." Drake had purposely attempted to take his own life three times. The first time was right after he'd caused the love of his life to die when he'd pushed her into relapsing. The second time was when his parents had kicked him out after Marcellas' crew broke in and destroyed the place while Megan was home alone, which forced Drake to move in with Coach Tad so that he wouldn't be on the street. The third time was when Dahlia told him to. "I guess three then," he said softly.

In a matter of minutes, Mrs. Nichols had learned about two new suicide attempts and a new overdose. She had to light another cigarette and Drake did, too.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't very strong mentally and..." What kind of bullshit explanation was that? How was that going to make her feel better. "I won't do it again. I mean, I know I said that before, but...the last time was...pretty painful..." Nope, that's not better. "I got help. I...um...checked myself into a mental hospital. I had a lot of people supporting me and...when I tried that last time...it really hurt them...so..." He felt horrible when he heard her sniffle. "I'm sorry."

"I'm just glad you're still here."

"Yeah," he said. "Me, too." This wasn't actually true, but it was something he felt like he was supposed to say.

"It's a very pretty tattoo," she said.

"Thank you."

"What's your third one?"

"It's just a square," he said, "on my ribs."

"Can I see?"

"Sure." He said it casually, but he actually didn't want to show her. He hated his body. It was something he used to feel confident about, but not anymore — not with all the scars and reminders. He was asked about them almost every time he went to bed with someone. Total boner killer.

Drake lifted up his shirt to the tattoo right underneath his breast. It was the black square with YAKO ER'UOY in thin white backwards letters so that anytime he went looking in the mirror for a reminder of who he was, he was given positive encouragement instead. His family had seen the hateful insult forever branded into his skin only once, but his mother had never forgotten what it said. Her eyes moved a bit lower and to the right, which is where she found the healed up stab wound. She only looked at it for a second or so because another, newer scar attracted her attention. From what she could see, it began somewhere around his back and came around his side.

"What happened?" she asked.

The young man put his shirt back down. Without it, he felt naked — like, really naked. That's why he liked quickies in public restrooms. A need gets fulfilled without all the embarrassment and questions. He never had to take his shirt off. He didn't mind a girl seeing him with his pants down; he just didn't want her to take off his shirt.

"When I..." He couldn't bring himself to say the words, so he skipped over them. "...that third time...they...completely destroyed my ribs during the CPR. I had to get surgery because one punctured my lung."

"Oh my goodness."

"I guess that's what I get for...being stupid."

"Don't call yourself stupid. You're not stupid," she said.

Drake bent his knees and rested his feet on the chair. He wanted to make himself small after revealing so much of himself to his mother in such a short amount of time. He wanted to close back up or at least switch over to a lighter topic. "Speaking of that..." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He was going to one hundred percent regret this later, but he wanted to stop talking about deep shit for a second.

Audrey watched curiously as he opened his wallet, then pulled out a white card. She took it with furrowed brows when he passed it to her, then read it. A grin took over her face. "You have a library card."

"Yeah, I've been reading a lot." He noticed her eyes sparkle with pride when she looked at him.

"That's so great!"

Actually, maybe he wouldn't regret this. With Josh, he'd just been desperate for approval. With his mom, it wasn't about approval at all. Her love was unconditional. She was happy to see him no matter what. Even if he showed up strung the fuck out, she would've been happy to see him. This wasn't about receiving judgement or approval with her. This was about catching up, no matter how well or how shitty his life was going. All she wanted was to know how he was and she needed him to know that she loved him. She'd spent the last three years hoping he knew that, so now that she had the chance, she was going to make sure she showed him.

"What have you been reading? Maybe I've heard of some."

And here he goes pulling up his Goodreads app on his phone, but this time, he didn't feel pathetic doing so.

"Oh, wow, that's so many." Pause. "Hey, I've read the _Divergent_ series, too. I never would've expected you to like that one."

"Reading's pretty new, so I'm just trying to figure out what I like and don't like. Mrs. Hayfer recommended it, so I gave it a shot and really dug it."

"Mrs. Hayfer?"

"She was my math teacher back in high school."

"Yeah, I remember that," Audrey said. "I thought you hated her. You still talk to her?"

"Yeah, it was actually just a couple months ago that we became friends. Her and her husband — they were the ones who found me when I...when I tried to hurt myself. They saved my life. She's saved my life more than once actually. She visited me everyday when I was in the hospital and she came to see me in the mental hospital. She even came to my birthday party."

"I'm so glad," the woman said. "I'm so glad you had a mother figure in your life."

"I thought about you everyday," said Drake, "and I always thought about coming to see you, but it wasn't until I became friends with her that I really started to consider it. She reminded me of you all the time. She's really kind and selfless and wise and caring like you."

This made her smile and she reached up to pet his hair. She'd missed him so much. She could see many changes in him. He had matured and he was much more outwardly emotional than he used to be. He took responsibility for the wrongs he's done rather than blamed everything on someone else and he was finding new, unexpected hobbies.

"I'm so happy for you. You're doing so well," she said. "What other things do you like to do now?"

"I just recently started playing music again. I haven't done that in...years. Julio and I just did a show at Flux the other week. It was so much fun. Mrs. Hayfer even came."

Audrey had never been to one of his Flux shows before. He used to never want her to go. She thought it was due to her age and because it was uncool to have your mommy come watch you play. She respected his wishes because she never wanted to embarrass him in front of his peers, but that really was never the case. Well, that was partly it, but the biggest reason he never wanted her to come was because he was always doing wild shit up there on stage. Maybe if she would've broken that rule just once, she would've learned of his drug use sooner.

"We still haven't had much time to play," said Drake. "Julio's got some things going on and I've been busy a lot, too. I joined a musical production and the rehearsal schedule is hectic."

"You joined a musical?" She was surprised. "I didn't know you were into acting."

"I didn't either. My friend made me try out with him and I didn't really think anything of it after that because I didn't think I would land the part, but then I got a call that I did and I've stuck with it. It's so much fun."

"Is it the theatre right up there in town? The one advertising for _Rent_?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Oh, that's great! You love _Rent_." She liked it, too, and she'd watched it with him plenty of times. "I would love to come see you perform."

This made him feel like a kid again, but in the best way possible. "I can get you a ticket," he said with excitement. "Tomorrow's opening night, but we're doing it all week, so if you have time—"

"Yes, of course I have time. Is it too late to get a ticket for tomorrow?"

"No, I can get you one."

"Let me text Kenzly and ask if she minds babysitting tomorrow night. What time does it start?"

"Seven." Drake realized now that he hadn't asked about his daughter the entire time that he's been here. Maybe that should've been one of the first things he mentioned. After Mrs. Nichols sent her message, the boy spoke again. His voice no longer carried that same excitement. Instead, it was filled with guilt. "How is she?"

"Kenzly?" The question confused her because they'd already talked about his ex girlfriend.

"My daughter." Those words felt strange leaving his lips and he couldn't meet his mom's eyes.

"She's really good," she said. "She's a very happy and active kid. She looks a lot like you. She even has your ears."

"My ears? Oh, that poor thing."

"Hush. Your ears are fine," his mother said. "She's so smart and she loves music just like you did. Oh, and she recently started doing that thing you did when you were little. Remember when you got mad and you used to hold your breath until you turned blue? She does that."

This made him chuckle for some reason. It was a weird feeling knowing that he took part in creating a living being who looked kind of like him and acted kind of like him and who shared similar interests even though they'd never met before.

"I, uh..." He kept his eyes low with shame. "I don't even know her name."

"Mindy named her Charlie."

Drake was so shocked that he forgot about his guilt and met her eyes. "What?"

"Charlie Imogen Parker."

"Oh my God." He couldn't even help but laugh. "Oh my God. That's so bad."

Audrey slapped his arm playfully. "Hush!"

"No, it's cute, though," he added. "It's cute."

She'd be lying if she said she loved the name. Mrs. Nichols thought Charlie was for boys and Imogen... Where did she even get that? She was glad that the kid's mom decided to stick with Parker rather than Crenshaw or Nichols, though.

"Fuck, Mindy," Drake whispered under his breath.

Audrey couldn't help but laugh, too. He was right. The name was... Well, it was definitely one that only Mindy could come up with.

"I wasn't a fan either," she admitted, "but the more you say it, the more the name gets attached to that adorable face and it grows on you."

She seriously named their kid after a drug. He wondered how triggering it would be to say that name every time he looked at his daughter. It was a constant reminder. No fucking wonder she got back on drugs. What the hell was she thinking?

However, he knew what she'd been thinking. She was thinking that Charlie had brought her and Drake together. Despite everything — whether she was using Triple C's or not at the time — she loved Charlie to death and that summer they spent together had probably been the best time of her life. At least she named the kid after cough medicine and not meth. He definitely preferred the name Charlie much more than Tina.

"Would you like to see a picture?" Audrey asked and he said he did.

She pulled out her cell phone and tapped on the screen a couple times, then passed it to him. It was a photo album on Facebook with all Charlie's pictures. There were a lot.

"Megan's gotten into photography, so she takes pictures of her all the time and edits them on her laptop. They're nice, aren't they?"

"Yeah," he said absently.

He clicked on the most recent one to enlarge it and his heart started pounding. The first thing he noticed was that Charlie was a spitting image of Martin Parker. She had his eyes, his nose, his mouth. It was like looking at his dad, but with a toddler's body and girl's hair. Despite this, the picture brought tears to his eyes. That was his daughter. He helped make her. How could he have just left her like he did? He was supposed to protect her and love her, but he walked away instead.

"She's fucking beautiful," he said. He couldn't describe what he was feeling. It's not anything he had ever experienced before. It's like the second he laid eyes on the photo, he fell in love.

Audrey saw that sudden change in him. She knew her son never wanted a kid. She knew he tried pushing for an abortion and she knew that he'd had to weigh out whether or not seeing his kid was worth reconnecting with Audrey again. She didn't expect him to immediately step up and be a father. Honestly, she hadn't been sure if he wanted anything to do with Charlie at all, but when she saw his teary-eyed grin upon seeing his daughter for the first time, she knew that he was here to stay.

Drake scrolled down to the very first picture, which was of Charlie in the hospital. She was unclothed and pinkish and shriveled and her wrinkly hands were so tiny.

"Mindy ended up having to do a Cesarean," Audrey said.

"That's...?"

"A C-section."

Drake remembered freaking out when her water broke that night. Marcellas had a gun pointed at Mindy and was threatening to kill her and their kid. Drake stepped in between her and the gun and begged him not to, then her water broke and she started bleeding and screaming that something was wrong and he had no idea what to do other than allow her to squeeze his hand so tightly his bones almost broke. Thank God for Megan. She managed to calm her down while Drake negotiated for their lives. He always cared about her and he always cared about the baby despite everything. He always thought he was doing the right thing by distancing himself. Having a substance-addicted dad can really fuck a kid up. He knew this from experience. He thought that, by leaving Charlie in the hands of Mindy, she could grow up without getting involved in the pattern of addiction and abuse that had consumed the lives of her father and her father's father and her father's father's father and so on.

He continued scrolling through each photo beginning with the earliest and his mom commented on each one, giving him some sort of funny background story or explanation and, by the time he was finished looking at the pictures of Charlie, he almost felt like he knew her. The pictures went from youngest to oldest and it was like watching her grow up. He wished he would've actually been there to witness it — those first words, the first time she crawled, the first steps. There were videos for each and he wept with pride when he watched them, but that wasn't the same as being there, teaching her those things himself and holding her hand as she figured it all out.

Drake always had mixed feelings about his step-father. When he shunned him from the family, he understood. He totally did. It upset him and it still hurt to think about sometimes, but overall, he wasn't exactly mad. Now that he was seeing what he missed out on, there was a bit of anger in his heart, but he knew that he probably wouldn't have gotten clean without going through all the shit he went through and then having Ricardo and Julio drag him out of the holes he had dug himself into. Still, there was a chance that having a kid to think about could've straightened him out. He wanted to get clean and he swore he would and he was never given a chance. Instead, he was given a, "I wish you the best of luck." What the hell had Walter expected him to do after that? He had no home, no family, no support. Of course he was going to give in to his drug urges. Drake didn't want to, but he couldn't help but feel like this was all Walter's fault.

"I wish I would've been there," he said. "I never should've left. Does she hate me?"

"I've told her about you," his mother said. "She's not really old enough to understand yet. She hasn't asked, but I tried to show her pictures. She doesn't really pay attention, so I played one of your old CD's since she likes music — one of your band playing — and I told her it was you. She likes to listen to it sometimes."

Drake laughed and cried at the same time as he looked at the last picture on the phone again. Charlie was sitting in the grass next to the garden Audrey had made. She had the hugest grin on her face as she looked around at all the bubbles floating by her and she reached out for them. The picture really did look professional.

"Megan's really good," he said because he kind of blew his mom's statement off last time since he was so distracted by the photos.

"Yeah. Charlie's really photogenic, too. She looks so much like you."

"She looks like Dad."

"You look like your dad."

This was true. He looked a lot like his father, but he never really thought about it like that because Martin always told him how much he looked like _his_ father (Drake's grandfather Henry). Henry was an abusive, raging drunk also because that's what his old man taught him to be. Martin never thought of his son as his mini-me. Instead, he saw him as a Henry look-alike and now that's what Drake was doing. He saw Charlie as a Martin clone when she really just looked like himself.

"I don't know..." the young man started vulnerably, "...if I'd be any better than him."

"Are you kidding me, Drake?" Audrey was surprised by his lack of self-awareness. "You're a good boy. Sure, you've made mistakes, but you own up to them. You know when you've done wrong and you don't set out to intentionally hurt people. That's the difference between you and your father."

"Do you think she'll like me?"

"She'll love you. I know she will."

"I don't really know...how to do this. I mean, you've raised her since she was born. I can't just come in and start acting like a parent."

"Just give it time. Let her get used to you and understand who you are. I love her to death, but she's your daughter and if you're ready to take care of her, I would be more than happy to step back and let you be her dad."

"I'm gonna stay clean," Drake said, trying to assure her although she had already said he could take over any time he wanted.

"I believe you."

Her words really hit him. This was the first time in three years that she's seen him and it's been less than an hour, but she believed him. It's like he earned back every ounce of trust simply by mustering the nerve to return home. She believed him when he said he would never use again. Ricardo and Julio believed him, too, but still they had doubts sometimes. Some people had no faith in him at all, like Dahlia. These were people he was close to — people he would see everyday. Drake left his mother with a gun in her face and blood on her living room floor, but here he was three years later and she still thought the world of him.

"Can I...maybe...see her today?" he asked. He needed to introduce himself before he lost his nerve. Once he did that, he couldn't go back.

"Of course." She felt proud of her son when she saw him grin with excitement. She reached out and took his hand. "You're gonna be a great father."

* * *

 **Drake Parker: hey jus checking in its goin relly wellso far**

A response came back almost immediately, letting him know that his friend was waiting by the phone in case there were any sudden changes.

 **Ricardo Santos: thanks for keeping me updated. I'm glad.**

 **Drake Parker: im boutta meet my daughter**

 **Ricardo Santos: how r u feeling?**

 **Drake Parker: relly excited &nervous jus hope she doesnt hateme or that I dont mess up**

 **Ricardo Santos: u'll do fine. U got this. Ur good with kids. Kiara adores u. She always walks right past me & julio to find u and give u a hug first.**

 **Drake Parker: thx idky im so nervois**

 **Ricardo Santos: she'll love u**

Suddenly, he heard the back door opening. He still wasn't comfortable going inside and meeting his daughter for the first time was nerve-wracking enough. When Audrey went inside to check on Charlie, she didn't come out immediately like the times before, meaning that the toddler was awake. She'd been inside for several minutes talking to her and letting her know who was outside waiting for her.

Drake put his phone away and stood. His heart was pounding. He saw Audrey first. She was carrying a bucket of toys in case Charlie wanted to play. She moved across the back porch and stepped onto the grass, then set the bucket down. The child was right behind her, following closely and gripping the back pocket of Mrs. Nichol's jeans.

"Look, sweetie. It's Daddy."

Daddy. That would take some getting used to. He never liked the word before because it was like a magic word that wouldn't work for him. That's what Megan always called Martin when she was little and he treated her like a princess. Drake tried the word out a couple times foolishly thinking that maybe it had some real power to it. He never got treated like a prince, though. After a few failed attempts, he decided to stick with Dad or Sir.

Drake squatted down so that he was at eye level. "Hi, Charlie," he said. He only got a little sneak peek of her before she scooted further behind Audrey's leg.

"She's shy," the woman said. "Why don't you go say hey, sweetie? I'll hold your hand." She felt the kid shake her head against the back of her thigh. "She's not used to men," she explained.

"That's okay." Drake related to this. He spent a lot of time around men, but he often felt uncomfortable, so he could understand that she felt this way, too. He stayed where he was and gave her space just like Ricardo and Julio would do for him whenever he was anxious. His voice was soft as he spoke to her. "I'm shy, too, sometimes."

Audrey never thought of her son as shy, but that was back during his high school years and earlier. He always had so many friends and girlfriends and he even fearlessly cussed out Mrs. Hayfer before. She remembered Martin telling her this after a meeting he'd had with the teacher. Drake wasn't nearly as gutsy anymore, she noticed — at least not in that way. Maybe it was the fear of punishment his father had instilled in him. If you do something wrong and someone tries to kill you for it, it's going to leave a mental scar. Drake was brave in a different way. He had the kind of courage it took to quit using the only thing that seemed to keep him sane and the kind of valor required to return home after the way he'd left and own up to all of his mistakes.

"Can I look at some of your toys?" he asked.

Charlie peeked around her grandmother's leg. She had the tip of her pointer finger in her mouth for comfort. She nodded her head, then watched curiously as Drake sat down, reached for the bucket and began pulling some things out. First was a tractor trailer that was about half the length of his arm. All the doors and the hood opened. It was such a little thing, but he remembered how much he loved playing with cars that actually had working doors.

"Cool truck," he said.

Audrey sat on the grass, too, and her movement made Charlie snuggle against her back even more. "Charlie loves big trucks."

"Really? I've been in one before," he said and this got her attention. "My friend has one." Mr. Hayfer wasn't exactly his friend, but his wife was and, in marriage, what's his is hers and vice versa.

"Isn't that cool, Charlie?" the woman hyped.

"Yeah, and it's really big and really tall and it has a bunk bed and a refrigerator inside."

"Wow, we didn't know that, did we?" Audrey knew what was inside tractors, but her granddaughter didn't and she was including herself to make the child more comfortable.

Next, he pulled out a keyboard shaped like an orange cat and the keys were its teeth. He turned it on, then played a few notes. "Do you know what animal this is?" he asked.

Audrey prodded when the kid didn't answer. "You know," she said. "Can you tell him what you call them? Say mew-mew."

Still nothing.

"Do you like mew-mews?" Drake asked.

A nod! It wasn't much and it was just one up and down motion of the head, but it was something.

"Me, too!" he said. "I have two mew-mews at my house. Maybe you can play with them one day. Would you like that?" He got no response, but this didn't discourage him. "They're both little and they're black with yellow eyes." It occurred to him that maybe she didn't know what that meant. "They're this color." He pointed to his black skinny jeans. "And their eyes are..." He looked in the bucket, then retrieved a plastic yellow ball, like the kind that belongs in a ball pit. "...like this," he said. "And they like to play and run and climb and they eat and sleep a lot."

"That sounds like you," Audrey joked as she turned and looked at her granddaughter.

"Let's see what other neat toys you have." Drake pulled out another toy truck (a cement mixer that had a spinning barrel), a baby doll, a drum, a tambourine and a firetruck. He talked about each and he could tell that she was listening, but she still didn't speak up. The next thing he pulled out was an Etch-A-Sketch. "Oh, cool! I had one of these! I can draw something — watch this. I can draw something really cool." He started twisting the knobs left and right and back again. He tried to be quick about it as not to lose her attention. When he was done, he lifted it and turned it around to show off his work. "It's a big truck," he said.

Cautiously, Charlie took a step away from Audrey. She paused, then took another and another until she was standing completely on her own now. Finally, Drake could see her. His mom was right. She was a teeny tiny version of himself, with Mindy's fingers and toes and long, straight, brown hair. Her eyes were brown like both of her parents and looking at her made him miss Mindy a little. The child went about halfway, got a better look at what he drew, then went back to her grandma. Instead of hiding behind her, she sat in her lap.

Drake reached into the bucket for a new item and pulled out a small, kid-sized instrument. "You have a guitar!" He gave it a strum to see how it sounded. It was all sorts of out-of-tune, so he twisted the pegs at the head of it. "I love playing guitar. Do you like to play?"

Audrey gave her time to answer before she answered for her. "She likes to run her fingers over the strings and hear the sounds."

"What song's her favorite from my band's old CDs?"

" _Makes Me Happy_. She always has me replay that song."

"Wanna hear a song, Charlie?" he asked as he finished tuning the instrument. He sat criss-cross applesauce and rested the guitar on his lap. He played a few chords of a random song to warm up, then he started playing "Makes Me Happy."

 _ **Well, hello, let's go**_  
 _ **Everybody must know**_  
 _ **Love's in my heart like a bomb**_  
 _ **It's blowing a song**_  
 _ **Inside I'm singing**_  
 _ **Sunshine that you're bringing now**_  
 _ **And it makes me happy**_

Charlie immediately recognized the song, but even greater, she recognized the voice. She looked up at Audrey, who smiled down at her, then she stood curiously.

 _ **Listen to the radio**_  
 _ **Playing back in stereo**_  
 _ **Sounds like my favorite song**_  
 _ **I'm humming along**_  
 _ **My head is ringing**_  
 _ **And I just can't stop singing now**_  
 _ **'Cause it makes me happy**_

 _ **You're everything I need**_  
 _ **Handed from above**_  
 _ **I can't get enough of your love**_  
 _ **Cause it makes me happy**_

When Drake lifted his head, he saw his daughter dancing and it touched his heart. His eyes watered over, but he kept his tears back. He didn't want to cry in front of his kid. He'd just scare her away. At that age, children don't understand that there are such things as happy tears, too.

 _ **Living in a daydream**_  
 _ **I'll show you what it all means**_  
 _ **Spending some time in the sun**_  
 _ **Let's get up and run**_  
 _ **It's just beginning**_  
 _ **And I just can't stop singing now**_  
 _ **Cause it makes me happy**_

 _ **Like a fantasy**_  
 _ **That you never find**_  
 _ **Right in front of me**_  
 _ **All the time**_  
 _ **And it makes me happy**_

 _ **I want it all but not too much**_  
 _ **I wanna feel the way you touch me**_  
 _ **I'm the kind of guy who's always there to come and find you**_

 _ **Save the rainy days for another time**_  
 _ **I'm just here to say read between the lines**_  
 _ **I'm so glad that you're mine**_  
 _ **Cause you make me happy  
**_ _ **You make me wanna sing**_

He finished up all the _dodododo_ 's, which seemed to be her favorite part. When he finished, he rested the guitar on his lap and his heart burst when he heard Charlie clapping and cheering him on.

"Yay! Good job! Good job! Yay!"

He had to wipe his eye before she could see the tear that fell. His mother was clapping, too.

"You like that song, don't you?" she was saying.

Drake wore a friendly smile as his daughter finally approached him. She didn't say anything more. Instead, she picked up his right hand and placed it on the strings.

"Again?" he asked.

When she nodded, he played it again and she danced some more. After he finished, she urged him to begin again. This time, he picked up the tambourine and passed it to her so that she could play along. He went through the song about seven or eight times before she settled down and started playing with her other toys with him. Audrey's stiff legs were falling asleep, so she stood and stretched them, then sat down at the patio table. She looked on at her son with pride as he took the doll and hairbrush he was given and started combing through the blonde hair.

* * *

The sky was dark when Ricardo pulled the car up to Drake's old home. This time, he pulled into the driveway, then texted his friend to let him know that he was there.

"I guess it went well if he waited this late to text you," Julio said from the passenger's seat.

"Yeah. I'm glad. I thought it would go well, but it threw me off because, the second his mom opened the door and saw him standing there, she bitch-slapped the fuck out of him."

"Damn."

"I know. It was so loud that I heard it from where I was parked on the curb. I know that shit had to've hurt."

"Well, she had three years of pent-up anger to let out. If that's all he got, she handled it well, I'd say. Yo, can we stop and get something to eat on the way home. I'm fucking starving."

"Yeah. What do you—"

"There he is. Is that his kid?" Julio sat straighter in his seat and stared out the window as Drake rounded the corner of the house carrying Charlie in his arms. "That's so weird."

"Hey," Drake said as he approached the open window. "My mom's coming. She wanted to see you guys. Look." He grinned as he showed off his daughter.

"Let's get out," Ricardo said to his passenger because he thought it was rude to remain in the car if his friend's mother wanted to speak to them. He unbuckled and opened the door and his brother followed, then the man went around to their side of the vehicle.

"She's cute," Julio said. "She looks just like you."

"Are you calling me cute?" Drake teased and he received an eye roll in return.

"Hey there," Ricardo said to the child in a pitch higher than his normal one.

Charlie responded by turning her head away from him and Julio laughed.

"She's shy and scared of men," her father explained.

"Wow, she sounds just like you, too," said Julio.

"I'm not _scared_ of men. I just don't like to be around them, okay?"

Ricardo broke in before the meaningless, half-hearted bickering started. "She seems to have taken to you pretty fast," he said when he noticed her wrap his arms around Drake.

"I sang to her and played guitar. My mom raised her on our old CDs, so she knew my voice when I started singing and she danced. I wish you could've seen it."

"So what's her name?" Julio asked.

Just then, Audrey came through the front door and made her way over to the group. She wore a friendly smile. "Oh, it's good to see you both again. My, you've gotten tall!"

"Well, one of us has," Ricardo joked, picking fun at his younger sibling, and Drake smirked at Julio's scoff.

"It's been so long since I've seen you boys. You're not even boys anymore. You're men. Look at you. You're even growing facial hair."

This time, Julio spoke up. "Well, one of us is."

Ricardo shoved him playfully and laughter broke out amongst the group. This made Audrey happy to see. Her son had said the oldest had taken on an authoritative role in his life, but she was glad to know that he wasn't so stern and serious all the time because it meant that Drake got a break from feeling guilty about who he was and what he had done. Serious conversations and accountability were important, but so was laughter.

"I just wanted to come out here and thank you boys for taking care of my son. I'm so glad someone took him in and kept on him and made sure he stayed on the right track," she said and she started crying. "I know it wasn't easy. You gave him what I never could. You never gave up on him and I can't thank you enough for that. You saved his life. Without the two of you, he wouldn't be standing here next to me today."

"Thank you, ma'am," Ricardo said, "but he changed his life on his own. We were just there for guidance and support."

Drake rolled his eyes. "Don't be so modest," then he went back to comforting his daughter.

"He's changed," his mom said. "He's grown up to become a fine young man and he may have done the hard work, but I know it wasn't a cakewalk for the two of you either. He told me some of the things you've both done for him and I'm so grateful. If there's anything I could ever do to repay you, you just let me know."

"We're just glad to see him clean," Julio said. This was enough of a reward. He didn't say that because Drake would call him out for being cheesy, but it was true. He didn't want anything in return for all the blood, sweat and tears he had put in to helping his friend turn his life around. Watching him go through life without being doped up was the best prize he could ever ask for.

Audrey went in for a hug. She put one arm around Ricardo and one around Julio and continued expressing her gratitude. She wept some more and this went on for close to half a minute before she let go. "Well, I better not keep you. It's getting late and I've gotta get this little one to bed." She looked over at Charlie, who still clung to Drake's neck so that he would protect her from the big scary strangers. "And you've got a big day tomorrow," she said to her son.

"I've gotta go now, okay?" the young man said softly to his daughter as he rubbed her back. "But I promise I'll come back soon." He gave her a hug and kissed her hair just like his mom used to do for him. "You ready to go to Nana?" He was told that this was the name Audrey preferred because Grandma made her feel old. After Charlie nodded, Drake leaned in and gave Mrs. Nichols a hug with his free arm. "Bye, Mom. I'll see you tomorrow night." He squeezed her tight like he didn't want to let go now that they were reunited, but then he kissed her cheek and pulled back.

"Bye, baby," Audrey said to Drake as she took her grandchild. "I love you." Just in case he didn't come back, she needed him to know this.

"I love you, too," he said. "And I love you." He kissed Charlie's cheek again, then waved goodbye and got inside the car after his friends.

Audrey and Charlie watched them go. "Wave bye-bye." She waved and the child mimicked her.

"She's adorable," Ricardo said as they started down the street.

"I know!" Drake said giddily from the backseat. "Oh my gosh, I love her!"

The man looked at him through the rear-view mirror. His friend's grin was so contagious that he couldn't help but smile himself. He turned towards Julio and, in that quick glance, he saw that his brother was thinking the same thing. It was good to see Drake happy again.

* * *

Ricardo woke up dying of thirst. He had a half-full bottle of water on the nightstand next to him and gulped it down pretty quickly, but it wasn't enough to quench his thirst. He thought about laying down anyway, but he knew he'd just lay there unable to sleep, focusing on his dry mouth and being too lazy to do anything about it because his head was already back on the pillow, so he forced himself to his feet to take care of the problem. When he got to the kitchen, he heard a voice coming from the next room. Upon checking the clock, he noticed that it was about an hour and a half past midnight. He grabbed his new bottle of water, then headed towards the living room with curiosity. That's where he found his two roommates. Drake was sitting on the couch telling Julio exactly how meeting his daughter had gone, giving him a detailed play-by-play and repeating himself quite often. His voice carried the same vigor it had earlier when he'd gushed about his kid in the car.

Julio was taking it like a champ. Nothing was more annoying than child-talk, especially when he kept hearing the same stories over and over again, but he was genuinely happy for his friend. Julio didn't want kids — not anytime soon anyway — and Drake used to be the same way, too, but now that he'd met his, there was a sudden change in him and Julio fully supported it. Despite how boring talking about dolls and toys and macaroni was, it made Drake happy and that made his friend happy, too.

"What the hell?" Ricardo butted in. His tiredness showed, which maybe made him sound a bit grumpy, but he wasn't mad or anything. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Sorry," Drake apologized sheepishly, his smile fading fast. "Did I wake you?"

"No, but you've got a ton of shit to do tomorrow and you have to get up early. It's almost two. Don't you think you should get some rest?"

"Shit, I guess I lost track of time." He glanced at the clock. "I'm not even tired."

"If you don't get some sleep, tomorrow's gonna suck. You don't want your performance to suffer because you let yourself stay up all night."

"You're right." He was nervous enough about opening night. The last thing he wanted was to get up there and completely choke in front of everyone, especially his mom, and how was he supposed to buy back Josh's love if he blew this?

"I'm going back to bed. Goodnight."

"Night."

"Goodnight," Julio repeated. When he heard footsteps on the staircase, he quietly teased Drake. "Dad got you in trouble."

The boy laughed, but stopped when they were given an, "I heard that."

"I guess we better go to bed," Julio said.

"I'm gonna smoke first. Maybe that'll make me sleepy."

"Alright. I'ma go on upstairs. I'm about to pass out." He stood and his friend followed.

"Thanks for listening. Sorry I bored you with all my kid-talk."

"I tried to keep my eye rolls to a minimum. How'd I do?" he joked.

"Ten out of ten totally looked interested."

"Good," he nodded. "No, seriously, I really love that you're so excited about it. You went from being the most irresponsible person I know — no offense—"

"Sure, okay." He expressed amusement at the blunt honesty.

"—to being that Dad who whips out a photo of of his kid every single year at the office Christmas party whether people wanna see it or not."

"That was...oddly specific..."

"It's a weird transition since we were both just debating whether narwhals are real or not this morning, but it's whatever. I'm glad things went well today. I'm glad you feel the desire to talk my ear off about this rather than a lot of the other things you usually talk about." He was referring to drug cravings, thoughts about his dad or Dahlia, depression or any of the other serious topics his friend usually vented about. Julio was always willing to listen to them, but it was nice to see that none of these were currently at the forefront of his mind. "And you can even tell me these same stories all over again tomorrow.

"It's just new, I guess," Drake said. He touched the door knob and, despite what Julio had said moments ago, it looked like he was going to follow him outside, so he opened the door and they went. "It's like...she's the one thing I haven't fucked up. She's perfect and I keep having doubts, like...damn, if she's doing this well without me...maybe it _is_ best if...if I stay gone, you know? What the fuck can I offer her? A month of sobriety and a history of trauma and abuse?"

"You're not your dad. You'll never be your dad."

"I'm a fuck-up, though. You can't be a parent and be a fuck-up because then she's just gonna grow up to be a fuck-up, too."

"Then stop fucking up."

Drake was quiet for a short second, then he softly repeated those words. "Then stop fucking up." He said it like a new revelation he was mulling over. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Seriously," Julio said. "If you wanna take care of your kid, then take care of her, and that means putting her first, so if you're thinking about relapsing, don't. If you're thinking about hurting yourself, don't. If, for some reason, you get it into your head that it's a good idea to propose after being with someone for a week, please, for the love of God, don't."

Drake couldn't help but smile with that last one.

"If you're staying in this kid's life, that means you've got eyes on you. You can't be halfway with that shit. You've gotta be all in and you have to take care of your shit because you'll also have someone else's shit to deal with...literally and figuratively."

"She only has accidents sometimes, but she's almost ready for panties—" He saw Julio's dead stare. "...and that's not your point. No, I get it. You're totally right. It's just...I don't know if it'll be easier to make good choices just because I have a kid," he admitted and he felt like a piece of shit saying it out loud.

"Then maybe before you let things go any further, you should try to figure that out." His words were really hitting home with Drake, he could tell. "You've got a chance to break the pattern of substance and child abuse in your family. You have a chance to take back your family name and make something great out of it and I totally believe you're capable of that, but you have to believe that, too. If you can't...maybe parenting isn't the best thing right now. Maybe giving up your rights is in her best interest. You have to think ahead to when this excitement wears off. This kid's gonna get annoying, she's gonna be a lot of work, she's gonna require a lot of maintenance, she's gonna take up most of your paycheck. I know it sounds like I'm trying to convince you not to do it. I'm not. I just don't want you to be that wishy-washy dad that comes and goes. Now _that_ 's how you fuck a kid up. You've gotta make a decision and stick with it. You've gotta be everything your dad wasn't, which means you'll have to unlearn all the bullshit you learned from him about what being a father means and you'll have to figure it out all by yourself."

As Drake considered his advice, he stayed quiet. When he spoke again, he asked, "What do you think I should do?"

"I can't tell you that," Julio said. He saw that this disappointed Drake, although he knew he understood. "But if you were to ask me if I think you're capable of raising a child, then my answer would be yes. You just have to be ready to take on all that responsibility. If you relapse, you can't run off for another two months. If you get depressed, you can't lay in bed for weeks at a time. I believe in you. The real question is: do you believe in yourself?"

* * *

"We just did dress rehearsals a couple days ago," Dee overheard as he walked down the main hallway towards the doors. "If her costume didn't fit right, she should've said something then."

"She wasn't here that day, remember? She had a wedding to go to—"

"Oh, Dee!" Another cast-mate rushed up to him from behind. "Have you seen Hollie? I can't find her anywhere and I'm trying to run through some choreography to make sure we know where we're supposed to be for _Christmas Bells_."

"I think she's helping Catalina fix something in the tech booth."

She scurried off and Dee pushed opened one of the double doors. He immediately felt the August wind hit him and it cooled him off although it was seventy degrees out. He looked to his right, then his left and that's when he spotted Drake. He was standing against the wall inhaling cigarette smoke like a vacuum.

"Hey," Dee said, announcing his arrival as he approached. "There you are."

"Sorry, I just had to step out for a second."

"You alright?" As he got closer, he noticed his friend's fingers trembling.

"Yeah."

Dee didn't believe him. "What's up?"

"Just a little nervous," he spilled. "Everything's going wrong and I'm kinda freaking out. I've thrown up four separate times already, which, I'm pretty sure, beats Kristy's record by, like, two." He sucked in a long drag from the cigarette.

"Hey, everything's gonna be fine."

"It seems like everything that could go wrong _is_ going wrong."

"We've still got a few hours. Everything will go smoothly and, if it doesn't, as long as you know your shit, then it's not your fault. We joined this to have fun, remember? Don't take it so seriously."

"I just don't wanna fuck up. My mom's out there...and Josh..."

"You'll do fine. You love _Rent_. You know your parts inside and out. Don't worry about what anyone else is doing. Don't focus on your family or the audience. Just go out there and have fun," Dee said. "I'll be right there with you and Ricardo and Julio will be there supporting you, too."

Drake nodded as he silently repeated the man's advice in his head. There was a moment of silence, then he said, "I need to get ahold of myself. I never got like this playing a gig before. I don't know what's gotten into me."

"It's just new. You're adding acting and you feel like you've got a lot riding on this because your family's here, but I think this is a really good opportunity to talk to them without actually talking to them, you know? You told me you resonate with _Rent_ a lot. You've dealt with addiction. You've dealt with homelessness. Show them that. Help them understand you and the things you've gone through."

"You're right. That's good advice. Thanks," Drake said, then his normal, facetious self returned. "You must be taking Ricky's Dad Advice 101 class."

"And now I've just completed my homework assignment for the week," he bantered back.

The young man chuckled, then exhaled slowly after tossing his cigarette butt away.

"You good?"

"Yeah."

"A group of us were gonna run through _Santa Fe_ one last time and then everyone's gonna get dinner together. You wanna come?"

"Yeah." He pushed himself away from the wall so that he could follow him back inside. "I don't know about dinner, though. If I eat anything, I'm gonna throw up on stage."

"It might help settle your stomach if you get some food in you."

"I doubt it. I'll eat after. My mom wants to celebrate and Ricky said we can do it at our house. He never told me if you said you were coming or if you're going to celebrate with the rest of the cast."

"I was planning on going with the cast. I didn't wanna intrude."

"You won't be intruding," Drake assured. "I know my mom wants to meet my friends. Plus, you're Ricky's boyfriend and she's known him since he was a bad boy teen, so I'm sure she'd love to meet you. If you want," he added. "It's okay if not. I hate meeting new people, too, and the cast get-together will probably be much more exciting."

"No, I'll come," he said, "if you're sure you won't mind."

"No, I'd love for you to be there."

A voice broke into their conversation. "Drake, Dee, there you are. We've been waiting for you." It was Kristy.

"Sorry, I had to step outside and get some fresh air for a sec."

He never told anyone he was a smoker because he didn't want to get in trouble for taking breaks, but they knew because they could smell it on him. No one really cared, though, because he only ever went outside when he wasn't busy rehearsing.

"Alright, they're back," Kristy announced. "Places, everyone."

* * *

The first two seats on the row were occupied by Dee's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Christensen. Both were excited to see him back on stage. He used to be in the drama club back in high school, but he hasn't performed since then. Back then, he was quite chubby and often picked on. He didn't have many friends, his grades were low and he'd hated school. After graduation, he went to community college, faced the same obstacles and dropped out halfway through the semester. That's when he joined a gym and decided to change his life. Since then, he'd eat, sleep and breathe only fitness. Both were ecstatic to learn that he'd landed a part in the _Rent_ production and they enjoyed seeing him perform again. They knew how much he had always loved it, but he let that passion die due to his low self-esteem. Darrell seemed much more confident ever since he met Ricardo and they were glad he had found such a loving partner who supported their son.

Ricky sat next to Mrs. Christensen. He smiled when he saw Drake walk out onto a small, square, upstairs balcony. A group of people followed, each one stating their names. Dee soon came out and called himself Collins as he shook hands with the AIDS support group leader. He knew Drake had been nervous about today, but he was sure that Dee had helped keep him grounded. He never received any frantic calls since his boyfriend had picked his best friend up, so that was a good sign. He loved seeing the two share scenes together. It wasn't often that they interacted, but since Drake played one of the homeless, he was often just in the shadows on stage aimlessly roaming about or pretending to be freezing or tired or something. They were both doing really well and Ricardo's smile got even bigger when the AIDS support group began singing.

Next to him sat Julio and the next song that started up abruptly was much more rock 'n' roll. The electric guitar and drums immediately attracted Julio's interest, but then the girl that started singing grabbed his attention. It was Sal, who played Mimi, singing her solo _Out Tonight_. She was a stripper and she wore a colorful robe with her hair pinned up. She was on an upstairs walkway and in the spotlight, with the AIDS support group remaining in their cubicle to the left, now in the shadows. Less than a minute in, Mimi let down her hair and removed her robe. Underneath, she wore skin-tight blue silk pants and a silver crop top with black mesh around the stomach area. She had on black, leather sleeves that clung to each other only by a small stretch of fabric on her upper back. As she sang, she danced along the railing, as a stripper would do, and gradually made her way downstairs.

"Oh, damn..." slipped out of Julio's mouth and his big bro chuckled quietly to himself. _That_ 's who Drake fucked in the smoothie shop bathroom?"

Ricardo glared at him. "Dude..."

The young man looked at him and saw him nod to something behind him. He turned his head in that direction and saw Drake's younger sister Megan staring at him with a bemused grin. He chuckled awkwardly. "Heh. I'm just kidding. Your brother's a total virgin."

"Yeah, Mindy just gave birth to Jesus Jr., I guess."

"Still a smartass, I see."

He and Drake used to spend a lot of time together. Julio's known Megan since she was just beginning school, so they sometimes bickered like siblings. This actually always made Drake jealous. He could never talk to Megan like that. He could hardly say anything to her at all. He loved her to death, but things were always weird between them. He never quite understood why until she wrote that letter he'd read during a failed intervention. In it, she admitted to knowing their father was beating him. He was kicked out (or chose to leave as opposed to checking into rehab) after that, so he never got to work out their relationship. Maybe it was better that he didn't. It only would've been harder for them both when he left to fuck up his life.

During the next song, Mimi tries to get with Roger, who is too scared to "give in to love," as the lyrics say, because his former girlfriend was a junkie who killed herself after finding out she had AIDS. Roger still can't get over the hurt, plus he's hesitant to be with Mimi because she's a junkie while he's in recovery and because he has HIV and doesn't want to pass it (although he later learns that she also has the disease). Mimi attempts to convince him to stop living in fear, but Roger only yells at her and pushes her to leave. Towards the end of the song, the AIDS support group provides backup vocals, siding with Mimi and hoping to get Roger to accept the junkie's affection.

 _ **There's only now, there's only here**_  
 _ **Give in to love or live in fear**_  
 _ **No other path, no other way**_  
 _ **No day but today**_

Megan watched her brother looking down from the balcony and singing his part along with the others in the support group. Drake had no idea she was here. It was a last-minute decision and Audrey just planned on purchasing her ticket, but Ricardo managed to get ahold of his boyfriend and snag one for her. It was probably best that Drake didn't know yet. He and Megan hadn't had the chance to talk things out since she'd been at her friend's when he'd showed up at their house. She wondered how weird it was for him to be back there. Her mom said he hadn't been able to go inside. She didn't blame him. She hadn't wanted to move there either, but they lost their home due to money issues and Martin had left her his nightmare-ridden trailer. The first thing she did was toss out the bed she knew her older brother had been raped on. She put the entire thing on the curb: mattress, frame, headboard, sheets, pillows — everything. It hardly made a difference. He was probably assaulted on the couch, too...and on the kitchen counter...in the bathroom...the basement...

She still hadn't forgiven herself for keeping the abuse a secret. The sexual assaults hadn't started until he was sixteen. If she would've told their mother about Martin hitting Drake, then it never would've escalated to rape. She couldn't even imagine the fear and shame he must've felt to have decided to let it keep happening rather than get help. She should've helped him. As his sister, it was her responsibility to stick up for him when he couldn't do it himself. For this reason, she was probably the only one who hadn't stayed mad at him for leaving. What else was he supposed to do? No one saved him. His family wouldn't let him talk about it without acting weird, yet no one would let him forget it. Of course he'd turned to drugs. What else was he supposed to do? No one else was helping him sooth the pain.

Megan turned to her mom when she heard a sniffle. She placed her hand in Audrey's and gave her a concerned looked when she turned her head towards her.

"I'm okay," the woman mouthed silently.

The current song was _Will I?_ and it was always Drake's favorite song even though it was the same four lines repeated over and over and over again. It was in the same style of _Row, Row, Row Your Boat_ in that one person says the first line, then when he goes on to the next line, another person joins in, but back at the first line, so different groups are singing different parts. In the beginning, one person gets to begin the song by running through all four lines before the rest of the cast gradually joins in. This was Drake's part.

 _ **Will I lose my dignity?**_  
 _ **Will someone care?**_  
 _ **Will I wake tomorrow**_  
 _ **From this nightmare?**_

His voice broke her heart to pieces. She'd watched _Rent_ plenty of times with her son and he always talked about how this was his favorite song. He was a rock musician, yet he resonated with this song more than the harder songs sung by Roger, a rock musician.

She should've seen it sooner — the things he was going through. These lyrics should've raised a red flag. Sure, they were about those dealing with the AIDS disease, but Drake had related to them because of the disease he had: addiction. He'd felt them in reference to the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his father. All those times they sat on the couch watching this film and singing this song together, he had been singing to her. He'd been reaching out for help the only way he saw possible...and she'd missed it.

A long time ago, she never understood why he would keep such a secret to himself. No matter what he felt, she was his mother. He should've been able to come to her with anything. It wasn't until about a year ago (when _Rent_ came on the tv and she watched it and reminisced on the times she'd had her son in her life) that she finally started to understand. What had happened to him made him feel undignified and dignity is one of the worst things a person can lose. Ever since that night when everyone had learned about the abuse, Drake continued to lose more and more dignity as the days passed. Audrey remembered clearly the night those thugs had broken into her home and had beaten and taunted her son in front of everyone. Even under the blood and bruises, she could vividly recall the bright red color that washed over his cheeks when the leader mentioned him giving out blowjobs at the truck stop and going to a hotel room with some stranger. She didn't believe it at first, but then her son had confirmed it by saying, "I was trying to get your money." She'd felt so sick upon hearing those words and she had no denial left when he asked his family to turn away so that he could pleasure one of the men to spare Josh the pain of a beating. Her precious child was out there offering himself to anyone who would take him. He'd been so desperate for cash that he inserted himself around a bunch of Martin Parker's and let them have their way with him. He prostituted himself. _Her baby boy_ was a prostitute.

She always hoped that maybe it was just that one time. She liked to believe that, even after being tossed to the curb by Walter, he'd never needed to do it again. She always told herself that for comfort. However, when Drake broke down sobbing yesterday, she knew. He didn't even have to say it. She knew that wasn't the last time.

She could feel someone staring at her. She turned her head to the person next to her: Josh. She gave him a small smile, assuring him that she was okay, then she turned her attention back to the stage as the next song began. Josh hated seeing Audrey cry. It's a sight he's witnessed way too many times in the past few years and, each time, that anger inside him got a bit bigger. He didn't want to hate Drake. Of course he didn't. They were best friends once. He wanted so badly to go back to those days, but he couldn't get past what the young man had done. Maybe those days had never existed in the first place. Josh used to tell him everything and he thought that Drake did the same, but it turned out the entire life he thought his brother lived was all fabricated. He used to come to him with girl trouble or friend trouble or homework trouble, but compared to his real troubles, that was nothing. It felt like their entire relationship had been a lie.

This was something he could get past, though. Maybe he didn't understand why Drake had been so secretive, but he could learn. What he couldn't forgive was his brother — his best friend — stealing the love of his life, impregnating her, then abandoning her and his child. Mindy wasn't even anything to him but a convenient lay. If it had only happened once, he still didn't think that he could get over it, but the fact that it happened three times? How was he supposed to forgive him? Josh never could talk to him about it. He'd hardly spoken to him at all, even before Walter kicked the addict out.

Drake had done a lot of stupid things, like when those gangsters had broken in, for example. It was his fault. They all could've died. However, it wasn't intentional (and apparently, after hearing how those guys taunted his step-brother, Drake had done everything in his power to prevent it all from happening), but there was no way that sleeping with Mindy was unintentional — not three times. This was one decision that Drake couldn't blame on the drugs. In fact, it was probably the only realness that had come out of the young man since they'd met. Drake was a girlfriend-stealer.

Deep down, though, Josh knew that there was some good in him. When shit had hit the fan, Drake resorted to armed robbery and prostitution in order to save his family. Although not ideal, it was the only choice he thought he had. When Marcellas threatened to beat Josh up, his older brother was willing to give some sick thug oral right in the middle of the living room, with his family present and everything. He knew it was his own mess and he tried his best to keep it that way, but no matter how angry Josh was with him, he would never let him humiliate himself like that and he would never _ever_ allow Audrey to sit through something so traumatic, which is why he'd turned the attention to himself by starting a fight. He lost consciousness, but he was later told that he'd saved Drake the embarrassment and their mother thanked him a thousand times.

Despite everything, that night proved that Drake wasn't evil at heart. He was even willing to take a bullet to save the baby he refused to claim or even acknowledge sometimes. Josh wanted to forgive him. Honestly, he missed those days when he and Drake used to get into mischief ( _innocent_ mischief). Did he see that happening? No. When they caught up outside the club on Dee's birthday, he hadn't meant to be so harsh and bitter, but he couldn't help it. A measly month of sobriety after having been gone for three years was a little disappointing, but it was something at least. He knew that Drake had changed — had matured and grown — but he couldn't help but focus on his flaws. He always had his guard up and had a shell around his heart when it came to Drake. He wouldn't let his brother break his heart again. In doing this, he wasn't allowing him room to come in at all. He genuinely wanted this to change and he was willing to try, but he wasn't sure if it ever could. What if Drake was the same old Drake who had done all of those horrible things three years ago? What if he was a completely different, better person? Will that fix everything or will Josh's hatred only grow? How was it fair that the young man could fuck up everyone's life, leave and then come back clean and willing to care for his daughter suddenly when everyone else's life was still in shambles? Josh was going to propose to Mindy and Drake ruined that. Mindy was going to go to Harvard and now she was probably geeked up in some dope house if she wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere. Josh's father lost his wife and had fallen into a depression. Audrey lost her home due to the money they'd had to put into her getting mobility of her legs again. Megan was — who knows where Megan was or what she was doing? She was so secretive and antisocial. How was it fair that, after all of the debris left in his path, Drake could just show up like nothing had ever happened. Everyone was still suffering because of what he had done, but Drake was doing alright and so everyone was supposed to just forgive him? How did he always get away with everything so easily?

Josh tried to push these thoughts out of his mind as Dee finished one of his main songs. He'd missed it thinking about Drake. He needed to stop. Dee invited him. He was supposed to be here for support. _Santa Fe_ transitioned into _I'll Cover You_ , which consisted of Dee's character Collins and his partner Angel, a percussionist drag queen, professing their love and knowing they're on borrowed time since both have HIV and will die because of it. They shared a few on-stage kisses and Josh wondered if that was weird for Ricardo to watch. Dee had talked about the play a lot while training him at the gym and he told him that he brought this very subject up with his boyfriend and was given the green light. Ricardo had always been mature, although Josh spent little time with him. He used to pick Drake up for band practices sometimes or drop him off. When Drake was in the hospital, Ricardo stayed by his side the entire time. He was a good friend and, according to Dee, a great boyfriend. Back when Dee told Josh about no longer being single, he never connected the dots. He was told the new guy was named Ricardo, but back when he knew Ricardo, he hadn't come out yet. If he had put the pieces together, he probably could've reconnected with Drake sooner, but it was probably best this way considering that his step-brother had informed him of a recent relapse. That would've most likely broken things apart even further.

Dee was really good and Josh had to admit that Drake was a natural up there as well. Sadly, his brother's characters dealt with subject matter he was probably all too familiar with. Once the love song was over, a spotlight shined on a busy woman who was having three different phone calls at once. He heard Mrs. Hayfer chuckle quietly to herself next to him. She came in right at the last minute, so he didn't get to catch up much with her besides a quick hello. He didn't get the chance to talk to Audrey and Megan either because they were running late as well due to Kenzly's friend's car breaking down on her when it was time for her to head over to the trailer to babysit. Josh — being Josh — was thirty-five minutes early.

The stage went dark for a couple seconds, then the spotlight returned, shining on a group of homeless people singing about how their Christmas wasn't so merry. Another light shown, this time on Drake, who was on the opposite side of the stage. He carried a bucket and squeegee and chanted about "honest living." The homeless went on with their carol, saying that the Holiday Inn refused to allow them to stay despite the fact that it was beginning to snow. Once that line was said, the stage came alive with movement.

Alice remembered Drake telling her that this was one of his favorites, but he said that about a lot of the songs. There was so much going on. At first, the attention was drawn to Angel buying Collins a coat from one of the homeless, then it moved to Roger pointing Mimi out to his friend Mark. After that, a group of junkies, Drake included, approached a drug dealer and begged for a fix. It saddened her to watch.

Junkies: _**Follow the man, follow the man**_  
 _ **With his pockets full of the jam**_  
 _ **Follow the man, follow the man**_  
 _ **Help me out, Daddy, if you can**_

 _ **Got any D, man?**_  
Dealer: _**I'm cool**_  
Junkies: _**Got any C, man?**_  
Dealer: _**I'm cool**_  
Junkies: _**Got any X?**_  
 _ **Any smack?**_  
 _ **Any horse?**_  
 _ **Any joogie boogie boy?**_  
 _ **Any blow?**_

She couldn't imagine the things that he had put his mother through, but she was sure that Audrey was just glad to have him back in her life. The fact that he was clean was a plus, but what Drake never understood was that his mom would've accepted him even if he wasn't.

Mrs. Hayfer was so proud of his decision to return home. As a mother who had lost a son, she knew just how ecstatic Mrs. Nichols must've been to see him. She was happy that she got another chance with her baby boy. Alice hadn't been so lucky. She was excited for Drake, too. He was going home a different person — a better person. He had something to show for himself. He had made a ton of progress even though he sometimes didn't see it. He had such a bright future ahead of him if he could stay on the right path and she didn't doubt that he would with all the support he had around him.

It was still crazy to think about sometimes. The student she had hated the most turned out to be the one whose life she had made the biggest difference in. She hadn't felt like she'd made a big impression in any way the last couple of years and it seemed as though all of her hard work and dedication was for nought. Drake reminded her why she had become a teacher in the first place. He resparked her love for her job. School was beginning next week and she was confident and prepared. She was going to change lives, just like she had done for Drake. Just like Drake had done for her.

* * *

Drake couldn't describe the strong feeling within his body that had him grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing with excitement. The play was over and the audience gave them a standing ovation and clapped and cheered for, like, five minutes and Drake had so, so, so much fun. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. He wasn't quite ready to put a name on it, but if he were to guess, maybe this is what happiness felt like.

Everything was going right for him lately. The musical went off without a hitch despite all the turmoil just hours before the play. He had reunited with his mom and she was watching him perform something that they used to watch together all the time. He was in his daughter's life now and, despite all the negative and cautious emotions he'd harbored about having a child, he loved her to death already and she was beginning to accept him. On top of that, he was clean, Julio was sober and they were best friends again. Everything was perfect. His life was finally beginning to turn around.

Dee opened the back door of the theatre and spotted Drake pacing back and forth. "I thought I'd find you here."

The young man exhaled and smoke left his lips. He couldn't stop smiling and it was contagious. "I just needed a cigarette really quick," he said.

Dee looked down and saw three butts squished into the asphalt. "You've been gone for a minute. Everyone was looking for you to say bye. They're about to head out. I think they're going to Golden Corral."

The young man put out his cigarette and placed the unfinished half back in the box, then he followed the man inside. He was led to a room filled with noise and chatter and, when he entered, he was congratulated and hugged and complimented. He'd felt so insecure about himself the first several rehearsals, but now he felt like...like he actually _did_ fit in. Catalina got everyone's attention and did a nice speech, then she reminded everyone to be on time for their performance tomorrow. Afterwards, everyone left. Drake was riding with Dee since Ricardo went to pick up the food and Julio rode with Audrey so that he could unlock the door and let everyone inside. Mrs. Hayfer and Dee's parents followed in their own cars.

When the two boys got there, the driveway was full and they had to park on the curb. Ricardo had just recently arrived and was getting out of his car, so Drake and Dee helped him get the food. They got KFC and Julio had hopefully remembered to heat up the oven so that Dee could cook his vegetarian chicken patties that he kept in their freezer.

"You guys were so great." Ricardo learned in and gave his boyfriend a kiss. "Super convincing. Almost had me in tears when Angel died."

"Yeah, I don't think Drake was acting," Dee said.

"It gets me every time. I'm just trying not to start crying when he dies during the sex song."

"The funeral was really sad," Ricky said, then he turned to his boyfriend. "That song you sang that was a slowed down version of the upbeat love song from earlier — oh my god, that was beautiful."

Drake nodded his agreement. "Definitely my second favorite song. You hit that one note — that one that always got me fucked up during rehearsals — and then I always forget that it's not real."

"Thanks," Dee said appreciatively. He was carrying the least, so he opened the door.

"Food's here," Julio announced when he saw them.

Of course he would be more concerned about the food than the stars of the night. They took the buckets and cups to the kitchen and set them on the island, then Audrey immediately pulled her son into a hug.

"You were so great," she said. "I'm so proud of you."

His heart melted upon hearing those words. He buried his face deeper into her neck as he felt his eyes burn with tears. "Thanks, Mom." He squeezed her tighter and felt comfort when she did the same back. Once he was sure he wouldn't cry, he pulled away. "I'm glad you came."

"Of course, sweetheart."

"Hey," came an attention-seeking voice from next to him and he recognized it immediately.

Drake turned to her. "Megan?!"

She just smiled at his surprise.

"Oh my god." Nope, he was definitely going to cry now. "Oh my god," was pretty much all he could say. Finally, he managed, "You're so tall."

"Are you gonna cry?" she teased.

"Shut up," but he laughed through his tears. "Are you mad at me or...?"

She could see that he wanted to hug her, so she stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around him.

"I've missed you so much," he said. "I'm sorry I left—"

"We can talk about that later. Right now, let's celebrate."

When she pulled away, Drake wiped his eyes. His mom greeted Dee and praised his performance as he approached. Based on their conversation, it sounded like they both went to the same church and even spoke sometimes, but were surprised that either one knew Drake. Dee introduced Audrey and her son to his parents and Mrs. Nichols introduced the Christensens to Megan. Dee's parents were very friendly and they complimented Drake just as much as Audrey had complimented Dee. Mrs. Hayfer helped Ricardo set out plates and napkins and drinks and cups while Julio grabbed his and Drake's computer chairs from upstairs so that more people could be seated. Everyone grabbed a plate and piled it with food while Dee got his chicken patties out of the oven. The four oldest sat, as well as Megan since they were all guests. Drake hopped up onto the counter to give his aching feet a rest. Julio leaned next to him while Ricardo and Dee set their plates on the island and stood next to one another. They were all in a big, slightly deformed circle and they spent the next hour or so discussing the musical, talking about their day or week and sharing stories. Despite only knowing two out of the other seven guests here, Dee's parents fit in well. They were the first to leave, followed by Mrs. Hayfer about ten minutes after. Ricardo offered to walk her out to her car, but Audrey stood and said she'd do it. She'd been wanting to have a private conversation with her all night, so now was her chance. She just wanted to offer her appreciation and gratitude for being there for her son, who claimed that she had saved his life. She wanted her to know how thankful she was.

Alice was very humble about it and complimented Drake's progress. When she saw the boy's mother begin to cry, she couldn't help but imagine if Audrey had been the one to bargain for his life in the motel room. It was an image even she couldn't get out of her head sometimes. A young man had almost died right in front of her. All she could do was helplessly watch as he was beaten, as he was drowned, as he was sexually assaulted. After saving him, she'd wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. She pitied him, but she also hated him, then she felt guilty about hating him after what he had gone through — not just that night, but his entire teenage life. She couldn't handle the mixed emotions, which is why she told him to leave her alone that day he was waiting for her outside of the school. However, just two months later, their paths crossed again in the truck stop bathroom. Something inside her changed that day. Back in high school, he acted carefree and indifferent and it was so convincing that she'd still seen him that way even after hearing about what his father had done to him. It was when she saw him laying in her arms unconscious that she actually saw him as a person who had feelings. His disrespect had always been a coping mechanism so that he wouldn't feel so weak and powerless. His lashing out had been a cry for help that everyone missed. Drake had wanted to die so badly that he hid somewhere he thought no one would find him. He'd begged her to let him die. Had she not been there, he probably would have died and the woman standing before her would be without a son. She knew all too well how that felt. She was happy that Audrey got another chance.

When they finished talking, Audrey headed back inside and helped clean up despite Ricardo telling her he could do it. She wasn't taking no for an answer, so he gave in.

"Ricky, have you seen my cigarettes?" Drake asked. He had a habit of smoking after dinner and pretty much every other meal.

"No. When's the last place you had them?"

He tried to think back to the last time he'd smoked. It was right after the play. He got them out of his bag and chain-smoked until Dee summoned him. They didn't fit in his skinny jeans, so he set the pack down. "I think I left them at the theatre."

"You can have one of mine," his mother offered.

"It's okay. I have another pack upstairs." He ascended the staircase.

He didn't mind smoking one of Audrey's, but she didn't smoke menthol. It was Marlboro Red and he wasn't a fan of those, but he would've accepted it had he not had anything else.

When he entered his room, his cats immediately started circling his feet. He spoke to them as he went over to his dresser and searched for the unopened pack. Macaulay jumped onto the dresser, blocking much of his view. Drake hissed when Agent Jack Bauer climbed up his pants, his claws digging into the boy's leg. He intervened before she got to the crotch area. He learned his lesson already about letting them around there when their claws were out. He reached down and picked up his baby, then petted her coat. Agent Jack Bauer rubbed the top of her head against Drake's chin, so he kissed her fur. Meanwhile, Macaulay was bumping against his arm, so he gave her attention and a kiss.

"Can I come in?" he heard suddenly and it honestly scared him a little. He looked towards his door and saw Megan standing there.

"Yeah," he said.

She did, but instead of approaching him, she walked towards the center of the room and looked around, examining everything. It felt like a long time before she spoke. "I've gotta say, it's not as cool as your old room."

"Yeah, I guess not."

He was nervous, but he couldn't explain why. His mom forgave him, but he blew it with Josh, so he felt like maybe she was judging him and his things to figure out what side of the fence she would land on.

"Look, I'm sorry I left," he started whether this was the right time for that or not. "I'm sorry about that whole night."

"Kinda dumb getting involved with those people," she said, turning to him now.

He hung his head. "I know." He wished he could tell her that he hadn't done anything so stupid since, but he couldn't — not honestly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."

"I know."

Unlike the rest of the family, she never doubted his love. He proved it when he offered fellacio to spare Josh a couple bruises and when he put himself in between a gun and the baby he never wanted. She didn't need to see these things to know he loved his family, though. Unlike the others, she'd witnessed some of the abuse he'd suffered, though. If dad had done those things to her, she probably would've thrown her life away to drugs and abandoned her disapproving family, too.

"I didn't borrow that money for drugs." He'd never had the chance to explain this before and it always bothered him. Drake took a seat on his bed and his sister sat down on the foot of it, folding one leg underneath the other. "It was for me and Meelah. We were gonna move to New York — get a fresh start. I just had to get away from everything...from this place, you know? After she died, I couldn't get myself to go without her. I didn't feel like it was fair to go through with our plans and have a better life while she was six feet under the dirt. When I couldn't get away physically...I guess I resorted to getting away mentally. That's when I started using again and it was more often than I ever had before. What I didn't spend on drugs and alcohol and whatever else I bought while I was high, I gave to Josh for wrecking the car. I got kicked out a week later, then the dealer who let me borrow the money had his guys threaten me and I started paying him off a little at a time, but it got harder and harder and I kept coming up short. I tried everything I could think of to get the money, but it was just too much. I just..." It sounded asinine now to borrow from a dealer, even if it was Meelah's brother's friend of many years. He'd just been so desperate to escape the city that had turned him into an addict and rape victim. "It probably doesn't make much of a difference, but I just need you to know that I did have good intentions at first."

"So where'd you go?" she asked him.

"I, um..." He debated how much he should tell her. He definitely didn't want to go into detail, but he knew if he gave some vague response, she'd see past his bullshit. He decided that refusing to answer was the best choice for now. "It doesn't matter. I'm here now."

"I didn't even get the chance to say bye."

"I'm know. I'm sorry."

"You blocked me on Facebook."

He closed his eyes with regret. "I'm know. I'm sorry." Drake sighed. "I'm a jerk."

"Yeah, a big one."

"I know."

"You didn't have to block me. You could've just ignored my messages or unfollowed me. At least I would've still gotten to see _your_ stuff and know that you were alive."

"I didn't want you to see me like that. When I left...it wasn't pretty." Vague, it is.

"Unblock me," Megan demanded. It wasn't rude, but it carried an authority that her older brother wasn't brave enough to disobey.

"Yeah, okay. Um..." He pulled his cell phone out and opened Facebook. "I just... Lemme figure it out real quick." Despite his age, he wasn't exactly tech savvy. He could do the basics, but it was always Julio, Ricardo or Dahlia going in to block people or toggle with location sharing.

"Hand it to me."

Drake relinquished his phone and hoped she was no longer a snoop like she was when they were younger. He had nudes on there, but she wouldn't find them unless she opened Clementine's text messages. Hers were the only ones he had for a long time. There had been a few girls on Facebook who sent some without permission, but Clem would always block them, then cuss Drake out and punish him with the silent treatment, physical harm, or a break from any and all sexual activity.

"Here." She passed it back and pulled out her own phone to accept the friend request she'd sent to herself from Drake. "I unblocked Mom, too."

"Thanks." He looked at his phone and saw that it was still on the screen to unblock people. He unblocked Josh, then all the girls that Dahlia had blocked. When he saw Walter's name, he paused and thought it over. He didn't mind being Facebook friends with him, but he wasn't sure that his step-father — former step-father? — wanted the troublesome boy back in his life again. He decided to go ahead and unblock him, but he didn't send the friend request like he had to Josh. He wondered if his mom's ex husband even had any idea that Drake was back.

"Cute," Megan said teasingly as she turned her phone towards him so that he could see what she was looking at. It was a photo Ricardo had tagged him in — the one where he and Julio spent the night in his blanket fort with his cats curled up around them. It hadn't bothered him at first, but now he felt a little childish, especially when he saw the numerous likes, comments and laugh reacts. He loved the picture, but it was one of those memories that belonged to him and not all of Facebook.

"It was a prank war," he explained. "It's been going on forever."

"I hope you got him back."

"We stuck waxing strips on his leg while he slept."

"Nice." She lifted her hand for a high five and he gave her one, which made him feel warm inside.

"I learned from the best."

"Yeah, but I never did that."

"You definitely did," he said. "Twice."

"Oh, for real?" She was pleased with herself. "I guess I've tortured you guys so much that I forgot everything I've done."

"You've must've really given Josh hell when you had no one left to prank but him."

"Yeah," she said with a mischievous smirk, "but don't worry. I've had three years to plan really good pranks for you."

"Lucky me," he said sarcastically. Despite how much he always hated them, he wouldn't trade them for anything if it meant that he had his little sister back in his life. "Go easy on me. I'm really sensitive."

"We'll see." Megan shrugged, then stood. "Hey, where's the bathroom?"

"Just take a left and it's the first door across the hall." Before she could leave, he stopped her. "Hey, um, maybe one day when you're not busy...we could hang out?" He couldn't remember the last time they had hung out together. Even when he was on good terms with everyone, he never really spent quality time with her and he'd regretted that after Walter shunned him and the realization set in that he'd never get to see her again.

"You want me to spend time with you? Hmm..." She pretended to mull this over in her head. "I don't know... You'll buy me a milkshake?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I will buy you a milkshake."

"Eh, I _guess_ I could hang out with you then."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm glad to see you're still a pain in the ass."

"I'm not. I'm actually really nice now. I can even give you a compliment. Wanna hear one? You're one of my favorite brothers. Definitely in my top two for sure. Probably number two, but it's still up there."

"Okay, you know what?" He pulled out his phone. "You're getting blocked again."

Megan laughed. "Yeah, in ten years when you finally figure out how to do it." She was right; he couldn't even pull up the right screen to pretend he was going to do it.

"Get out."

Megan grinned with satisfaction knowing she had won. To be even more annoying, she spied the pack of cigarettes Drake had been looking on the dresser for and knocked them onto the floor before she left.

The young man stood, then picked them up and headed downstairs. "Mom, can I borrow your lighter?" He'd left his with his pack and any other one he might've had was lost. He always lost them.

"Yeah. I'll join you." She moved over to the sink and began washing her hands.

"Mrs. Nichols," Julio started, "do you wanna take home any leftovers before I put everything in the fridge?"

"I better take something home to Kenzly in case she hasn't eaten. Just a second, Drake."

The boy sat down in one of the bar stools as his mother made a plate. He reached into a Styrofoam cup to pick up a macaroni noodle with his fingers and Audrey smacked his hand. It caught him off guard and he pulled back immediately like he'd burned himself on a hot stove. It was something that used to happen to him back when he had a mom in his life. It felt good to be around her again. It was the little things like this that he missed.

"Use silverware, Drake," she scolded.

Just then, a cat jumped up onto the island and ran straight for the food.

"Shit!" slipped out of the young man's mouth. He quickly grabbed it, then the other leaped up and this one knocked over a can of soda.

Ricardo caught this one, but just barely. "Drake!"

"Sorry, I think I left my door open."

After smelling the food and getting so close to having a taste, the cats weren't willing to go back to their room without a fight, so he couldn't carry both at once. Dee took the animal from his boyfriend and held her against his chest. When Ricardo turned around to get the napkins, Drake quickly reached into the KFC bucket and pulled out a piece of chicken, then he hurried up the stairs with Dee in tow.

"Ooh, Drake's giving the cats human food again!" Julio said loudly. He knew his brother didn't like it because then they would stare at him pitifully whenever he tried to eat.

"No, I'm not! Shut up!"

In the time it took Drake to put his cats in his room, break apart the stolen piece of chicken and head back into the kitchen, his mom was finished making Kenzly's plate, so the two smokers headed outside and lit up.

"Thanks," the boy said as he passed the lighter back. After a couple drags, he finally got the nerve to ask, "So Josh didn't wanna come?" It didn't come out as casually as he'd hoped.

"He said it was late and that he had to get back home." She offered a reassuring smile to let him know that it had nothing to do with Drake, but she knew otherwise and her son did, too, although he dropped the subject. "Dee's a nice guy. I'm so happy for him and Ricardo."

"He's super nice," said Drake. "He's one of the coolest people I've ever met. We kinda got off to a rocky start because I was a hot mess when they first got together. Like..." He didn't know how to explain the severity of his actions without actually describing them. "I was acting crazy and I did something — a couple things — that were pretty bad and had a negative impact on him. A few days into _Rent_ rehearsals, I apologized because it was getting awkward seeing him everyday and we worked everything out. There was this one director that hated me. She would embarrass me in front of everyone and say a lot of hurtful things to me in private. The other directors didn't believe me, so I was gonna quit, but then Dee busts in there and sets everyone straight and stood up for me and it was really nice."

"He sounds like a wonderful friend."

She really liked the way Drake's relationships were set up. He shared a house with two brothers and they all constantly reassured one another and had each other's backs and Dee was like part of the family. He took part in taking care of Drake when he could and, for that, Audrey was grateful.

"When did Ricardo come out?" she asked.

"Pretty recently actually. About five months ago. He was really secretive about it, but we caught him coming home late and when he said the name Dee, Julio and I just assumed it was a girl, but then I came downstairs one morning and found this strange guy making coffee in our kitchen and he introduced himself as Dee."

"I always hoped he would have the courage to embrace his true self."

"You knew?" the young man asked with surprise.

"For a long time. Remember that twenty-year-old guy who was in your band for a short time? The one I didn't approve of because he was five years older than you and I caught him giving you pot?"

"I remember." He certainly did. It happened right before his weekend at his dad's, which just so happened to be one Megan would miss due to a class field trip where she stayed the entire weekend. After Audrey told his father that he was grounded and informed him why, Drake was forced to endure absolute hell over the course of those two days.

"One day, you were all in the living room watching tv while I was making snacks. Everyone was being rowdy and I kept having to remind you to keep it down. I saw the way Ricardo looked at that guy and that's when I knew."

"Wow, I had no idea." In a way, Drake could relate. He knew what it was like feeling like you had to hide who you were in order to be accepted. He used to always fear what would happen if his secret got out and it was just as bad as he'd always expected for a while, but things were starting to get better.

"I'm glad he's finally happy. Dee seems like a very trustworthy guy."

"For sure. He knows all about my baggage and he's really cool about it."

Around this time, Audrey finished up her cigarette. She smashed the burning end into the collection of ashes, then Drake went over and did the same. "I guess Megan and I need to head on home."

He didn't want her to go, but he knew that she couldn't stay and he definitely couldn't go with her to that house and stay. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?" the young man asked.

"I have to work. Why?"

"I was just wondering if I could come over to see Charlie."

"Sure, of course. Kenzly will be there and Megan, too, probably."

"What time do you get off?"

"Three," she said. "I get home around four."

He had to be at the theatre by five forty-five to get ready for their seven o'clock show, which didn't leave him much time considering he'd have to give himself enough time to drive there. Plus, if Charlie was taking a late nap, then he'd completely miss her.

Audrey saw his dilemma. "It'll be fine. Kenzly's not as angry as you think."

"She wouldn't even look at me yesterday."

"She just wants you to acknowledge that you hurt her feelings," the woman said. "She was your best friend. I know she misses you."

Drake opened the door for her and let her go inside first. "Could you maybe subtly ask if she'd mind. I can just come by at four—"

"I'll ask. Megan, you almost ready sweetie?" she called.

"Yeah," came from the kitchen. On her way to the foyer, she grabbed the chocolate chip cookie out of Julio's hand and took it with her.

Dee grinned at Julio's bewilderment, then disappointment. He turned around and got another cookie from the sleeve.

"I'm really glad you came tonight," Drake said.

"Of course. I'm happy to've been invited. I had so much fun. I loved watching you perform."

"She cried, like, the whole time," her daughter tattled.

The young man smiled. Ricardo approached with Kenzly's dinner and the other two boys trailed behind him to see the ladies off.

"Don't forget your food."

"Thank you," Audrey said as she accepted it, "and thanks so much for inviting us into your home. She gave him a hug, then gave one to Julio. After that, she even pulled Dee in for a warm embrace. "I'm glad I got to see you perform. I'll see you Sunday morning."

"You, too."

Lastly, she went over to her son and squeezed him tight, then kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll see you tomorrow."

They all said their goodbyes as Julio got the door for them.

"Bye, Megan," Drake said. "I love you."

The girl rolled her eyes. She wasn't used to sibling affection and it just felt awkward and strange to be outward with her emotions like that, but she couldn't leave him hanging. After going three years not knowing if he was alive or dead, she regretted all the times she never assured him that he was important to her. "Love you." It came out bratty, which is why the Santos brothers grinned. They knew how much she hated being nice and civil towards her older brother.

"Aw, isn't that adorable? She loves you, Drake," Julio teased in a high-pitched voice. This earned laughs and embarrassed the girl even more, so she grabbed his cookie, but instead of eating it, this time, she dropped it on the floor and stomped on it. Julio's jaw dropped and he scoffed. He was left speechless as Megan descended the porch steps and met her mom at the car. When the shock wore off and he could speak, his voice was soft and broken like that of an upset child. "She smashed my cookie."

"You thought she was just gonna let you get away with that?" Drake ask with a grin. "I'm surprised that's all she did. I'd sleep with one eye open if I were you."

"What's up?" Dee asked his boyfriend.

"She's a major prankster," Ricardo said as he led the group to the kitchen for dessert.

"That's an understatement," Drake said. "She's literally tortured me ever since she came out of the womb."

Julio was still pouting. "She smashed my cookie."

Drake grabbed the broom and dustpan and swept it up, then dumped it in the trash.

"Just get another one," Ricky said.

"That was the last one."

"Rip," his friend said.

"Stop saying rip."

"Oof," Drake said, using another one of the boy's least favorite words. "Rip." He took a seat in one of the stools next to Julio.

"I'll make you some ice cream," Ricky offered his sad brother. "Which do you want?"

"Strawberry, but I'm not gonna be happy about it."

"...rip..."

"Dude, shut up!"

"Ow!" Drake exclaimed when his shin was kicked. "Rude!"

None of this phased Ricardo. He acted as if this was an everyday occurrence and it pretty much was. "Babe?"

"All three."

"Drake?"

"Nah, I'm good. I'm gonna go to bed soon. I'm worn out."

"You driving tomorrow or what?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go to my mom's and hang out with Charlie. Gem and Sawyer wanted to get food and head over to the theatre together, but I don't really think I'll feel like it."

"They're going tomorrow?" Ricky asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm sure Gemini will really enjoy himself when he gets to see you in that one song where you're grinding on the fence. I enjoyed that entire choreography quite a bit myself."

"That makes one of us," Julio spoke up. "Imagine trying to watch that sitting next to Megan."

"Oof," Drake said again. "Fuck, I didn't even think about that. You guys should've told me she was coming. I would've toned it down a few notches."

"Don't start getting paranoid about it," Dee said. "You do that and you're gonna mess up tomorrow. You were great and it was super fucking hot."

"I agree," Ricky said.

The compliments made him smile and boosted his confidence. "Thanks."

The room went quiet for a moment as Ricardo continued scooping ice cream. He passed Julio his, then got to work on his and Dee's bowls.

Drake was the first to break the silence. "This has probably been, like...the best week of my life."

The oldest smiled at him. "Good." He was genuinely happy that things seemed to be turning around for his friend.

"That reminds me," Dee started. "I meant to ask how things went yesterday. You met your daughter?"

Before Drake could speak, Julio groaned, then slid out of the stool. "Not this again. I'm going to bed."

This made his best friend laugh. "Oof. ...Ow! Fuck, dude!" He reached down and massaged his throbbing shin.

Once Julio was gone, he started telling Dee about Charlie. He tried to tone back his enthusiasm and not repeat things over and over, but the man seemed genuinely interested. He only gave himself five minutes to gush, then he excused himself and went to bed. He was exhausted and ready to pass out. He didn't even bother to put on pajamas. He just pulled off his shirt and pants and curled up underneath the comforter.

* * *

Drake was nervous as he waited for the door to open. He saw Kenzly the other day for a brief moment, but other than that, he hasn't spoken to her since he kicked her out. He owed her the hugest apology and he was ready to let that be the first thing out of his mouth, but when she opened the door, she didn't give him any time to speak.

"Let me get her shoes on. I'll bring her out back."

"O-okay." He didn't even get the word out before the door was closed.

He descended the steps of the tiny porch, then went around to the backyard. He was glad his mom told her that he wasn't comfortable going inside. If he'd had to mention it, then it would've been an awkward reminder of the things that had happened to him here. It was something that he'd never discussed before with her. She knew about it and he was okay with her knowing, but that was it. It's not that she was uncomfortable or weird about it. Kenzly was always waiting for him to bring it up first and he never did, so she assumed he didn't want to talk about it with her, which was kind of true. He didn't know why he didn't want to. He could talk about it with Ricardo or Julio or Dahlia, but not her. He never wanted to tell Dahlia either honestly, but his past had been coming in between them a lot and she'd deserved an explanation.

When Kenzly opened the back door and stepped out, Drake got a better look at her. She wore sweats and a loose band tee, no make-up and her hair was in a messy bun. Her appearance told the boy that she couldn't care less what he thought and that his opinion didn't matter to her. Of course, she never needed any of that stuff to be pretty, nor did she need Drake's approval. He just noticed she wasn't trying to impress him to make him jealous like other girls would've done. Simply no fucks were given whether or not they made up was the vibe he was getting from her.

When he saw his mini-me exit the house, he couldn't help but smile. He squatted down to her height. "Hey, Charlie."

"Hi, Daddy." Her face lit up and his heart melted. She tried to take the stairs faster than she actually could, but Kenzly was holding her hand so that she wouldn't fall. Once she was let go, she ran over to Drake and hugged him.

The young man squeezed her back and it took everything in him to keep himself from crying. "Hey, baby." He took comfort in her teeny tiny embrace. "I missed you."

"Look!" She pulled away, then picked up a piece of her hair, which was braided.

"Wow, your hair's so pretty!" he said. "You have a braid!"

"Keely did it!"

"Keely?" He sat down on his bottom now, cross-legged.

Her babysitter spoke up. "She's back and forth between Keely and Kenny because she can't pronounce the z yet." This made Drake smile.

"And look! Look at this, Daddy!" She backed up as if she were about to do the greatest trick of all time, then...she jumped, and to Drake, that _was_ the greatest trick of all time.

"Wow, look at you! You can jump really high!"

Charlie excitedly jumped some more, then she ran over to Kenzly and reached for the Tupperware bowl full of strawberries. She put her hand in and grabbed one, then ran back over to Drake and sat down in his lap without a word. Kenzly handed the father the bowl of fruit, then dragged the bucket of toys over to them before sitting down at the patio table.

He felt really awkward and he knew he'd continue to feel that way unless he addressed what had happened between himself and Kenzly. However, he didn't want to plow into that conversation head-on. "How have you been?" he asked her as he looked over at her.

"Alright. You?"

"Same." So there went that topic. He had to come up with a new one. "So you've been babysitting for a while?"

"Yep."

More silence. He couldn't keep beating around the bush. "Look, I'm sorry about—"

"It's okay. We're cool. We can talk about it later." She said that they were cool and this filled him with hope. Maybe this friendship could be mended after all. "Just spend time with your daughter," she continued. "Don't mind me. Your mom just said I have to supervise."

He wasn't hurt or offended by this at all. In fact, he felt comfort knowing that someone else was there in case things took a sudden bad turn...like now, for instance. Charlie started coughing hard and her face went red in seconds.

"Are you okay?" Drake's heart started pounding and he immediately wanted to curl up and block it all out like it wasn't happening. If he closed his eyes and covered his ears, then he could get himself out of just about any situation. However, he couldn't do that now — not when he was responsible for someone else's life. He patted her back in hopes that this would knock the food that was lodged in her throat out, but it didn't. "I don't know what to do!" he said, clearly in distress as his child gasped for breath.

Kenzly was already on her way. Despite her urgency, it was obvious that she'd dealt with this before. She stuck her finger in Charlie's mouth and dug out the half-chewed strawberry. The girl regained oxygen and her face gradually went back to its original color.

"Are you okay?" Kenzly asked. "You want some juice?"

Charlie nodded, so she disappeared inside. Drake watched as the toddler picked up another strawberry and bit into it as if she hadn't just almost died.

"You okay?" he asked, petting her hair.

Her back was to him since she was sitting in his lap, but she nodded anyway. About a minute later, Kenzly came back outside with a _Yo Gabba Gabba!_ juice cup. She gave it to Charlie, then sat back down.

"Thanks," Drake said. "I was freaking out."

"I saw," the girl replied.

"I just...I don't really know what to do."

"You'll learn. I'm sure instinct would've kicked in had I not stepped in. You just kinda have to figure things out as they come. Every new parents goes through it. You'll get the hang of it."

"Here, Daddy." Charlie picked up a strawberry, then held it out to Drake, who took it.

"Thank you."

"Eat it."

He did.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Yeah, I like strawberries. Do you like it?"

"Yeah. It's yummy." She gave him another one.

* * *

"Okay, she's asleep," Kenzly said as she left the door cracked and headed down the steps. "She was really fighting it this time. She wanted to play with you."

This made Drake smile. He knew Charlie had been tired when she stopped playing with her toys and instead sat in his lap, curled against his chest and watched _him_ play. He would've liked to've been the one to put her down for a nap, but he wasn't ready to enter that house yet. Maybe next time.

The girl sat down in one of the patio chairs. She'd brought her cigarettes out with her because she'd known that Drake was smoking. She pulled one out and lit it. "She really likes you."

This made him feel good. It was just a little over a week ago that Josh was judging him for abandoning his daughter, but now here he was mending things and trying to build a relationship. He wondered if this would make Josh proud or if his step-brother would just get annoyed at how easily everyone, Charlie included, had forgiven him. When they were teens, Drake used to get away with a lot more than he should've. Josh was never so lucky and he was jealous of that fact. Now Drake was clean, his mom had forgiven him, Megan understood him, Charlie loved him, and Mrs. Hayfer was one of his best friends. His life was pretty much perfect right now. He finally had stability and success. He got back all the things in a matter of weeks that it had taken his brother years to build.

"So..." Drake started, then he took a drag on his cigarette to stall. He wasn't sure if she was mad or not, but she didn't seem too mad. Still, he could never be too sure because of course she wasn't about to walk out here throwing a hissy fit in front of Charlie. "I owe you an apology."

"Don't."

In addition to the fact that they both grew up trailer trash with shitty home lives, Kenzly was like him when it came to apologies. She didn't like hearing them. He wasn't sure why exactly because it probably wasn't for the same reason. For him, he'd had to say sorry so many times in his life that being on the other end of it felt wrong. Plus, he hated making others feel guilty, although sometimes they should. Verbally apologizing and admitting fault was swallowing pride and he didn't have enough of that to spare. Just because he did it often, it didn't mean that it got any easier. He assumed everyone felt that way about saying sorry and he didn't want them to have to do that for him. He was okay with silent acknowledgement and proof with behavioral changes.

"I know you hate apologies, but...I really fucked up. I was really rude and kicking you out when you had nowhere to go was... I knew exactly what that felt like and I still did it to you and I shouldn't have. I'm a jerk."

"I was angry at the time," she admitted, "but after a while, I thought about it and I started to understand. Obviously, you can't have a girlfriend while living in the same house as your ex girlfriend. Of course she was intimidated by me." She smirked and this made Drake chuckle. "So where is she at today?" she voiced, but what she was really asking was if they were still together.

"We broke up."

She hated Dahlia, so she was glad that Drake was no longer taking that verbal and physical abuse from her. Still, she could tell he was sad about it, so she showed sympathy. "Sorry."

"It was probably for the best anyway."

She could tell that he wasn't so sure of his own words. "What happened?"

He couldn't help but let out an airy snort. "You want the short version or the long version?"

"I've got time for whichever one you wanna tell me."

He was quiet for a moment as he decided how much he wanted her to know. He was really embarrassed about the whole thing because everyone had warned him and he was too stupid to listen, so he wanted to tell her as little as possible. However, his relationship with Clem had a negative impact on Kenzly, so she deserved her "I told you so" moment.

"I moved out of Ricky's and stayed with her. She turned me against them. She made me believe all these lies and had me convinced that they hated me. A week later, I proposed. I guess I kinda just lost myself. Every morning, I would wake up and I would eat, sleep and breathe Clementine and nothing else." He had his head pointed towards the ground so he wouldn't have to look at her. "She was controlling me. She manipulated me and had me begging for her attention...and I never even noticed. I was such an idiot." He still felt like an idiot because he still wanted her back. "I found out that she'd been cheating the entire time we were together, so I left. I was under the assumption that Ricky hated me, so I couldn't go back there. Things got pretty bad..." He trailed off. Did he really want to confess that he'd attempted suicide over some girl everyone had warned him about? "I tried to kill myself," he admitted softly. "Obviously, it didn't work. I was in the hospital for a long time, then the mental hospital, then I relapsed for a while, but now things are okay."

When he was finished speaking, all she said was, "Shit."

"Yeah. I probably should've listened when you guys said she was no good. I guess karma came back to bite me in the ass for being so mean to you." Finally, Drake met her eyes. "I really am sorry. Are we okay?"

"Yeah, we're okay," said Kenzly. "Man, I wish I could've been there when you broke up with her. I imagine she didn't take that well?"

"Not at all. She locked me in her room and started hitting me."

"What did you do?"

"I finally stood up for myself. I told her she couldn't hit me anymore."

"Good for you." She said it with pride. "What'd she do after that?"

"She beat the shit out of me, then _she_ kicked _me_ out and threatened to call the cops because I pushed her off me."

"She's the fucking worst," Kenzly said.

"That's nothing," the boy said. "The second I got with someone else, Clem broke into her house, drugged her and got her fired from her job."

"What?!" Her jaw was dropped with shock. "That's fucking insane!"

"I know. Sometimes, when I'm out somewhere, I feel like she's following me. I don't know. It could all just be in my head. I just get this weird feeling sometimes, like I'm being watched."

"She's probably _is_ stalking you. You don't need to ignore your gut instinct. Someone who takes it that far is capable of anything. She might even try to hurt you."

"It's probably nothing, though," Drake said. "If she wanted to talk to me that bad, she knows where I live."

The girl went quiet as she adsorbed all the new information. She couldn't believe how incredibly psycho Dahlia was. Kenzly had never liked her and always thought she was a crazy, overbearing bitch, but despite these feelings, she wouldn't have pegged her as someone who would stalk an ex and ruin every relationship he made after her.

"How on earth did she turn you against Ricardo and Julio?" she asked. "I mean, everything else is pretty fucking hard to believe, but this is just making absolutely no sense to me. You three were so tight."

"It was some complicated process where she blocked Ricky from my phone and then created a Facebook account under his name and sent me hate texts everyday. It was really mean stuff. Looking back, I should've known that he'd never do that. He's believed in me this whole time, even when no one else did — even when I didn't. I don't really know what happened. That time I was living with her kinda feels like a blur now. I was acting crazy and obsessive and desperate and I spent every second of everyday scared that I was gonna lose her. I still don't even understand what happened. Ricky said she put in a lot of work and planted a lot of seeds to have complete control of me, but...I don't know. I _want_ ed to do those things. I _want_ ed to make her happy." He went quiet for a moment, then he shrugged. "I guess whatever she did worked. Even after all of the shit she did, I still stick up for her and I still take all the blame." He lifted his feet and rested his heels on his seat so that his knees were pressed against his chest. He always felt more emotionally comforted when he was curled up this way. "Pathetic, right?"

"Eh. Yeah, kinda, but I haven't done any better," she said. "I was with this complete jerk for a while and I even stayed when he started hitting me. Your mom noticed the bruises I was trying to hide and she had this long conversation with me and I don't know. It just dawned on me right then or something that I didn't have to take his shit. I spent all this time trying to avoid it, but I ended up becoming my mom."

Drake related to this. He spent so much of his life trying not to follow in his dad's footsteps, but he was becoming more and more like him everyday. "You're not your mom."

Kenzly looked at him and shrugged. "What do you know? You haven't seen me in over a year."

"Because you walked away from him," her old bestie said, "and that's something your mom could never do."

He was right and his words comforted her, but she didn't say that. They went back to a comfortable silence as they both lit up another cigarette. She was the first to speak up.

"I guess we both struck out when it comes to relationships."

"Turns out I'm pretty shit at them."

"Me, too."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Hey!" She scoffed.

"I mean, you said it! I'm just agreeing with you! And like, I mean, come on. We were together for, like, two seconds and you were already tired of me. You always break up with guys because you say they're not your type, but maybe _you_ 're just not the relationship type. Like, because how am I not your type? I'm everyone's type."

Kenzly grinned at the return of his old confidence. It definitely lightened the tone of their conversation, which was probably his intended purpose.

"I see you're still hung up on me," she said and Drake rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. You still have a chance. We've got that pact, remember?"

Actually, he'd completely forgotten about it until now. When they were younger and high on marijuana, they both decided that, if neither were in a serious, committed relationship by the age of thirty, they would get married to each other to avoid loneliness. At the time, he'd been serious about it and, honestly, he was still down for that if she was. He wasn't going to voice this, though.

"Are you talking about our suicide pact?" This one was more of an inside joke spawned from an episode of their favorite show. "I kinda don't think I could do that again because...well, apparently, I'm not really good at it."

"I'm talking about our marriage pact, dum-dum."

"Wow. Dum-dum, huh? You're total wifey material. You really know how to boost a guy's self-esteem."

"I've been practicing," she said facetiously. "All these wimpy guys come crying to me all the time about getting their little feelings hurt and they want me to stroke their ego a bit. There was one guy — he was the worst. What was his name?" She squinted her eyes like she was in thought. "Drake, I think."

He rolled his eyes again. "Fuck you."

"My favorite was the time you cried because your mom wouldn't let you get your tongue pierced."

"First off, I did not cry. Second, that was high school. Why do you always bring that up?"

"Because it's my favorite memory of you. You climbed through my window crying—"

"I wasn't crying."

"—about your mom saying no, then I said I'd pierce it for you so you wouldn't need her signed permission, but you freaked out before I could even poke you with the needle, then you went back home and cried some more."

"I wasn't crying!"

"Well, I don't know what you call it, but I call it crying."

"And you weren't even doing it right. It was gonna be crooked and I didn't wanna have a crooked tongue ring for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, yeah." Everything Drake said was actually the truth, but Kenzly liked to fuck with him because she knew it got on his nerves. "In eight years, when we get married and have kids together, I'm gonna tell them about how you threw a temper tantrum because your mom wouldn't let you get your tongue pierced at fourteen years old."

"I don't know why you think you can make fun of me when you literally threw up on my dick the first time you ever tried to give a blowjob."

Instead of getting offended, Kenzly just laughed. "Oh my god! I did do that!" Her face went red and she cringed at the memory, then she laughed some more. "And then you sympathy-vomited!"

"I mean, who wouldn't?"

"What a good memory. Me and you...cleaning vomit together."

"That's not quite my definition of a good memory," he said.

Suddenly, the girl changed the conversation topic just as quick as a new one came to her. "Hey, did your mom slap you the other day?"

"You heard that?"

"Dude!" she exclaimed when it was confirmed. "It was so loud! I didn't even know you were here until I heard it." She replayed that moment in her mind, then quietly said, "Fuck, dude."

"Yeah, but I totally deserved it and she got all her anger out, which is good because now everything's okay between us. Everyone else kinda has this bitterness that they're holding onto, but they don't wanna show it because they don't want me to run off again."

"Like who?"

"Everyone. Josh, Megan...you."

"You can see that, huh?" She was usually a pretty straightforward person, so she didn't bother to deny it. "Does this mean I can slap you and get my anger out, too?" she joked.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"I mean, I do get why you made me go, but it still kinda hurt. Just give it time. I'm still totally glad you're back. It's just sudden and there're a bunch of mixed emotions, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it. I know I can't just show up and expect everyone to forgive me right off the bat, so take your time. Honestly, I'm surprised you've been so nice to me. I've been scared to face you after everything."

"Yeah, I could tell when you saw me. You thought I would kick your butt?"

This made him snort. "Yeah, right."

"Who do you think would win in a fight: me or Dahlia?"

He didn't have to put too much thought into it. Sure Clem was violent, but she used her brain and her mouth as better weapons. Kenzly wasn't usually aggressive, but she grew up in the trailer park and knew how to take care of herself when need be.

"You," the young man said.

"Exactly. I'd definitely beat Dahlia's ass and Dahlia can kick your ass, which means I'd totally be able to kick your ass."

If he actually wanted to, he could definitely win in a fight against both girls. He wasn't the strongest guy, but he beat the shit out of Coach Tad the day he sent him to meet Marcellas empty-handed. However, sticking up for himself wasn't something he was used to and violence wasn't something he had the heart for. Maybe if he applied himself more, he could actually beat the Santos brothers during a round of wrestling. It's not that he let them win. Both of them were definitely much stronger than him. He just never gave it his all for fear that it would release the monster within him — the one that was shaped a lot like his father. It didn't really matter if he tried his best or not, though, because once they got him pinned, he was completely incapable of getting free no matter how much he tried, which proved their superiority.

Drake let her have it. "I guess I can't argue with that logic."

"With what logic?" It was a new voice: Mrs. Nichols.

Kenzly answered her. "We're just trying to figure out which one of us would win in a fight?"

She wore a brown blouse and dress pants that matched the minimal, earthy-toned make-up on her face. She was beautiful. Drake was filled with love and affection when he saw her. He was so glad that he was able to hang out with his mom again. Even when he was living with her, he never really spent much time with her — not since the divorce and he became even scarcer in her life when he started using drugs. She always thought he held some sort of resentment towards her because she asked for the divorce. She couldn't have been further from the truth.

Audrey joined them at the patio table. She had a pack of cigarettes in her hand. She pulled one out and lit it. "My money would be on Kenzly."

"Hey!" Drake exclaimed and the other two laughed.

"Well, honey," she started, but she really had no explanation.

The young man picked up his pack and lit his third cigarette in a row. As he did this, the women chatted.

"Is Charlie napping?"

"Yeah," Kenzly said. "It hasn't been long since she fell asleep. She was really fighting it today."

 _ **Drive boy, dog boy**_  
 _ **Dirty—**_

Drake pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Dee.

" _Trainspotting_ ," Kenzly said, recognizing the film that introduced her to this song. "Nice."

"Sorry. Just a sec." He pressed the green button, then put the phone to his ear. "Hey, what's up?"

"Where you at?"

"My mom's." It felt weird to call it that. In fact, he had to stop himself before he slipped up and said he was at his dad's house.

"When are you gonna be here?"

"Where?" he asked with confusion.

"The theatre," answered Dee. "Don't you remember? We're all supposed to get here at four today so we can go over everything from opening night."

"Oh, shit — I mean—" He glanced in his mother's direction and offered an apologetic expression. "I must not have been listening or something."

"Can you get here?"

"Yeah. I'll be there in, like, fifteen minutes." When he got off the phone, he said, "I was supposed to meet at the theatre early, so I've gotta go."

"Alright," Audrey said.

"Your mom told me all about it last night," Kenzly said. "She said you were really good."

He smiled humbly, showing his appreciation. "If you wanna come to the show, I can get you a ticket." He stood. He hated that everyone was waiting on him. If Allie was still in charge, he would've definitely been chewed out for this. "Or just any night you're not busy. Just let me know." He picked up his pack and his lighter.

"I've got plans tonight. Tomorrow?"

"Okay." He took one last drag, then held his cigarette out to Kenzly. "You wanna finish this?" He wasn't allowed to smoke in Julio's car and he didn't want to wait around and finish. After she took it, he went over to his mom and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry I have to run the second you get here."

"That's okay."

"Can I come by tomorrow?"

"Of course. Have fun tonight," she said, "and drive safe! You're already late, so there's no use speeding."

"I love you." He hurried towards the front of the house.

"I love you, too," she called after him.

* * *

"What time did you get in last night?" Ricardo asked as he picked up a box of rice off the shelf and dropped it into his cart.

Drake followed closely behind. He didn't walk next to the man because then he'd take up space for those squeezing past them in the aisle, which would force him to say a few _sorry_ 's and _excuse me_ 's. He didn't want to talk to anyone else but Ricardo. Instead, he followed the man like a lost puppy to avoid being in the way. Being around so many people gave him anxiety.

"Around one. Gem and Sawyer wanted to get Waffle House and Gem talked forever and then he wanted to go clubbing, but I finally said I was tired and had to go home."

"Did they like the show?"

"Yeah."

"Everything went smoothly?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He grabbed one of the last bottles of yum yum sauce and dropped it in the buggy. "You didn't write down chicken nuggets on the list and I think you're out. You want some?"

"Yeah."

Ricardo noticed that his answers were short. The only detail Drake offered was about his whereabouts the night before because he didn't want Ricky to be suspicious. The older boy wondered if his question had hurt Drake's feelings or if something else was bothering him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"What? Nothing."

"Did something happen yesterday?"

His brows furrowed with confusion. "No. Yesterday was good."

"You're just being... I don't know. Like you got something on your mind."

"I'm just thinking, like...I feel like I should get a job."

"Yeah?"

"I feel bad that I'm not doing anything to help my mom out with Charlie and I know I help out with groceries and bills when I can, but you've been having to hold everything together since I don't have a real job and Julio doesn't have his financial aid. Plus, you're paying for his DUI shit and you've had to pick up extra hours at the bar and I just wanna be more useful."

"Do you think you're ready?" his friend asked. "You think you'll be able to do it without it affecting your sobriety?"

"Yes."

"I think so, too." His words gave Drake a boost of confidence. "I can put you back on the schedule at the bar."

"I don't... I don't wanna work there," he said quietly.

Ricardo's forehead creased. "Why not?"

"I just..." He knew the man would have a rebuttal for his excuse, but he said it anyway. "It's just embarrassing. They all know I relapsed and I just bailed without giving them a head's up."

"They're not gonna judge you. They miss you and they ask about you all the time. Plus, they've got their own problems to worry about. They're all just as fucked up as you are," he assured, "but if you really don't feel comfortable coming back, then that's okay. I totally support whatever you do."

He was pretty sure he wouldn't go back, but he didn't want to totally shoot the man down. "Lemme think about it."

He knew Ricky wanted him near to keep an eye on him and he supposed he understood that. He loved the guy to death, but sometimes he just wanted a break from him. With that thought, he felt guilt take over. After all of his bullshit, _Ricardo_ should be tired of _him_ — not the other way around.

"Are we almost done?" Drake asked.

"You're like a fucking five-year-old sometimes. We've literally only been here for fifteen minutes." The man noticed his friend wrap his arms around himself like he sometimes did when he wanted to shrink. He knew that this meant Drake was feeling anxious. In a softer tone, he said, "Why don't you wait in the car?"

He thought about it. He didn't want to abandon Ricardo, but maybe the man would finish faster if Drake stopped nagging him every two minutes. He accepted his friend's suggestion and was given the keys. He made his way back up towards the front of the store, stepped outside and lit a cigarette. Before he could begin to make his way across the crosswalk, he heard his name.

"Drake!" It was a woman and she was excited to see him. "Hey! It's so good to see you!" She had him in a hug before he could get any words out.

"It's good to see you, too, Mrs. Harmon," he said, then he was led over to a free bench at the front of the store.

"Come chat with me." Meelah's mom gave him a big smile as she sat down. "I heard you went to see your mom." She must've spoken to Audrey on the phone.

"I did. I finally worked up the nerve."

"That's so great! I'm so happy for the both of you. Did it go alright?"

"It did. It went much better than I expected. We talked for a long time and she introduced me to Charlie." Just saying her name made the corners of his lips turn upwards in a smile.

After seeing this, Mrs. Harmon's grin got larger. "She's such a lovely kid," she said, "and she's so smart! Your mom said she took to you fast."

"Yeah, I played her a song on the guitar and she loved it."

"That's great. I know she has a thing about men. I can't tell you _how_ long it took for her to warm up to George."

Speaking of Meelah's father... "Is he at work?"

"He is, but he'll be so excited to hear that I saw you again. In fact, we're going to be at Audrey's on Friday for dinner. We rotate every week and it's her week. You should come. I know she'd love to have you."

"I would love that, but I can't make it. I'm in this play and we have a show that night."

"Oh, that's right!" Janine said. "Your mom told me how wonderful you were. George and I are coming to the show tomorrow. We're gonna get there early to get a good seat in the front." She could tell that he was appreciative of their support.

"I can get you both tickets," the young man said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, they gave all the cast ten tickets and I actually have two extra."

"Why, thank you, Drake. That's very sweet of you. Are you busy after the show? George and I would love to take you out for dinner or some late night dessert so we can all catch up."

"Okay. I'll have to change out of my costume and stuff afterwords. It shouldn't take more than thirty minutes and then I can meet you somewhere. Lemme..." He pulled out his cell phone and opened his contacts list. "Lemme get your phone number and I'll call you if I'm running late."

The two swapped numbers and she gave him her husband's number as well.

"And if you ever need anything, you know you can call us," she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled again as she looked at him. He looked so much healthier than he used to and she was so happy to see it. "I guess I better get going. It was so good to see you."

"You, too." He stood as she did and accepted the tight hug she gave him. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

After the two separated, he made his way across the crosswalk and to Ricardo's car. He lit his cigarette again on the way. He knew she wasn't a fan of his and Meelah's smoking habits, so he let it go out while he spoke to her. He was actually glad that he ran into her. Although she always reminded him of Meelah's death, she always uplifted him and made him feel worthy of existing. He got encouragement and positivity thrown his way from the Santos brothers all the time, but it was just extra reassuring to hear it from someone else, especially someone who had every right to hate him. The Harmons were the absolute greatest parents — after his mother of course.

* * *

Julio descended the foyer staircase and heard the television on. He glanced into the living room and saw Kenzly sitting cross-legged on the couch watching the Game Show Network. "Good morning," he said, announcing his arrival with a bit of obvious surprise and confusion in his voice.

"Hey." She smiled up at him.

She was wearing Drake's pajama pants and one of his tees. Drake fluctuated in weight often due to his inconsistent drug use. He lost weight fast whenever he relapsed, but this wasn't exactly a tell-tale sign of drug abuse for the Santos brothers because he also sometimes went through these phases of deep depression and anxiety and couldn't stomach food. His closet contained a mixture of different-sized clothing, so Kenzly had picked a shirt that fit loosely and hung off one shoulder.

"You want breakfast?" the male asked.

"I already cooked. It's on the stove."

"Oh," he said. "Sweet." He went into the kitchen and made himself a plate.

As he did this, Drake came down the kitchen staircase. "S'up?" He, like Kenzly, was still in pajamas, but he was peppier than he normally would be at this time of morning.

"Wow, I actually don't have to drag you out of bed today."

Drake leaned over his shoulder to see what had been cooked, then he reached for a sausage patty. "I've gotta drop Kenzly off after I take you to your meeting and I'm gonna see Charlie."

Drake wasn't the only one weirded out by the fact that Mindy had named her kid after the drug that had started her downward spiral. Julio was having to retrain his brain. Still, if his friend did decide to relapse, he could tell them he was going to see Charlie and if they chose to assume he meant his daughter here rather than his favorite pills, then that would be on them, right? He could blame them and defend himself by saying he'd told them what he had planned on doing.

"You're still going to your meeting, right?" Drake asked.

"Yeah." He saw the boy grab a glass and head over to the refrigerator to grab juice, so he pulled a glass out for himself and set it next to Drake's, silently requesting that he fill his, too. "So are you and Kenzly...?"

The young man glanced at him and understood what he was asking. "No, I passed out the second I laid down."

"Dude, she's wearing your clothes," Julio said doubtfully.

"She didn't wanna sleep in jeans."

"So she came over and you both just...went to bed?"

"She was with some guy she met on Tinder and he was being weird, so she asked me to come get her and she didn't wanna wake anyone at my mom's up trying to slip in and get ready for bed." Drake put the juice away and picked up his glass, then took a sip. He was on to another subject. "Do you care if Kenzly's with me when I drop you off at the church? Or we can go alone and then I can come back and pick her up if you'd rather do that. Megan's watching Charlie until we get there, so it's not like she's in a rush to get home or anything."

Julio's known Kenzly for a long time and he knew she was a very trustworthy person. "I don't care if she knows, but I just don't wanna be the one to tell her and I don't wanna be there when you do because I'll feel awkward and sad if she doesn't react the way I want her to, which is not at all."

"If she doesn't give a shit about everything I've done," Drake said, "then she's definitely not gonna care about your shit, but yeah, I'll tell her before we go if you're sure you want me to. Seriously, I can leave her here while I drop you off or I can drop her off first. She's not gonna care."

He could see that his friend was being sincere, so he opened up to him. "I really...just don't want a lot of people to know right now." Julio had practically put his alcoholism on blast in front of everyone at the Flux during their performance, but things felt different that night. He knew Drake was right and that Kenzly wouldn't judge him, but he still wanted to keep it on a need-to-know basis — at least for a little while.

"Okay, no problem. You want me to drop her off and swing back by like I left my phone?"

"I know you hate lying, though."

"I won't be lying," Drake said as he hopped up onto the island to sit. "I'll leave my phone and then explain to her how Ricky always freaks the fuck out when I forget my phone because he's tracking it."

Julio thought about this, but he felt like it was too much trouble and he didn't want to be such a bother so early in the morning. "I'll just ride with you and you can drop her off first."

"Cool." After taking another sip of his juice and swallowing it down, he asked, "How are you, by the way?"

There was a sigh, but his friend only said, "I'm okay." He kept his head down and his eyes on his apple juice, the color of which reminded him of beer.

"Hey," Drake said with sudden concern. He slid off the counter and approached his friend. "What's up?"

Julio shrugged. He was never as open as his fellow addict and he had a hard time being honest and upfront about his feelings. This is probably what had led him to alcoholism in the first place. The substance gave him the courage to say all the things he'd always wanted to.

Drake stayed so busy over the past few days and never really took the time to check in with his friend and he felt guilty about it now. He didn't really have any words that he thought would help, so instead, he just pulled the younger boy into a tight embrace. He always hated to admit it, but hugs made him feel better unless he was having an episode involving being touched. "I'll stay home with you today," he offered, "or we can go out." Drake was constantly gone in the car and, although Julio couldn't currently drive it, this meant he couldn't leave the house either.

"Nah, it's okay."

"No, come on. We'll play some video games and some music and skateboard, or we can go do something fun."

"Nah, you should go see Charlie."

"I'll bring her. I mean, I have to ask. My mom kinda has me on this probationary period, which means Kenzly or Megan would have to come, but we can all do something fun together." There was a short pause. "Oh, I got it. We're gonna do something super fun."

Julio believed him because his demeanor changed to excitement. "Like what?"

"It's a surprise, but it'll be so cool. I'll call my mom while you're in your meeting and see if I can take Charlie out, but if not, me and you will go. Okay?"

He thought about it.

"I'm asking, but I'm not actually asking. We're going." It felt strange being on this side of the conversation. Usually, the roles were reversed, so that's probably why he knew what to do. It's been done to him so many times that it was almost like second nature.

"Okay," Julio gave in.

* * *

Julio opened the passenger's side door and got in the car. Drake glanced up at him, clearly surprised by the sudden noise, but then he put his eyes back on the book in his hand.

"I'm almost done. I just have to finish this part."

Julio pulled his phone out of his pocket and took it off vibrate. As he waited for his friend to finish, he opened Instagram and absently scrolled through each post. It only took Drake about a minute to get done. He put his bookmark in, then closed the book and set it on the dash.

"How did it go?" he asked the passenger as he cranked the car and put it in drive.

Julio picked up the book to see what he was reading. "It was good. I feel a little better."

"That's good." The young man pressed a button and turned on the radio. His phone was already plugged into the auxiliary cord, so he picked it up and turned on Missio before he pulled out onto the main road.

"You went to the library?" Julio said as he read the title of the book: _I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell_.

"Yeah."

The young man opened the book and flipped to a random page. Seconds later: "The fuck? I think I managed to go directly to the worst page."

"No, no, it's all like that," the driver said.

"Shit." He continued to read the page he was on because he was intrigued. By the end of the chapter, he was laughing out loud. "Dude, lemme read this to you."

"No. No spoilies!"

Julio rolled his eyes. "Where are you at?"

"I'm just a couple chapters in."

He scrolled to the table of contents to read each chapter name. "What is this book supposed to be about? Frat boy shit?"

"This guy just being an asshole. It's funny when he makes fun of himself, but then he makes fun of other people a lot and I'm not really into that kinda thing."

Julio closed the book and put it in the backseat. "So are you gonna tell me where we're going now?"

"We're gonna pick up Charlie."

The younger of the two rolled his eyes. "I meant after that."

"Oh. Nope."

"You're so annoying."

"Oof." He could feel the evil glare that was being given to him for saying one of Julio's least favorite words. "Can you just chill out? It's gonna be fun. I promise."

"I'd really just rather go home and ride the rest of this craving out there."

"Yeah, because laying in bed obsessing over these thoughts is really gonna help you."

Julio rolled his eyes. He was pretty moody today, but it was obvious why. He knew his friend wouldn't give in to his request, so he stopped arguing.

Once they pulled up at the trailer, he was almost as sick as Drake had felt upon first returning. He immediately got flashes from the morning his brother had told him about the horrors that had taken place here.

 ***FLASHBACK***

Ricardo was exhausted and it showed. Drake had woken up just about every fifteen minutes complaining about pain, but he finally convinced his doctor to give him something to alleviate the hurt. It wasn't long before he was out like a light, allowing Ricky the time to check on things at home, work on the bar schedule so that he had someone covering for him and have a much-dreaded conversation with Julio.

As he sipped on his third cup of coffee this morning, his younger brother came down the stairs. "So you finally decided to come back home," he said. "Damn, you look worn out. Long night?" he joked with a wink. "She any good in the sack?"

Julio was laughing now, but Ricardo knew he wouldn't be when he told him what he needed to say. The two brothers have always been close, but they didn't talk about feelings too often. In fact, when Julio had opened up to the man about his depression and anxiety, that was the first time they ever really talked about something so personal. Since then, they've checked in with one another on these serious topics, but both boys still guarded themselves and didn't show too much for fear of appearing weak. However, Ricardo knew this news would absolutely destroy his little bro.

"Come sit with me."

"Lemme get some coffee."

Ricardo went to the living room and took a seat on the couch. The tv was on because he'd needed some background noise earlier to keep him distracted from everything that was going on. He picked up the remote and turned it off just as his brother entered. Julio's eyes squinted curiously, but he just sat down on the other end of the couch. It wasn't until Ricky turned and folded his leg under himself so that he was fully facing him that Julio knew that something was off.

"What's up with you? You're being all weird."

"I need to talk to you about something." There was not one hint of his normal ease in his voice. Instead, he spoke with complete seriousness. Sometimes he used this kind of tone when dealing with unruly customers at the bar or in situations where he needed to be tough, but even then, his voice was never this solemn.

Julio immediately started feeling anxious. He swallowed down the coffee in his mouth with a fearful gulp, then put the cup down on the table. "What's wrong?"

"It's about Drake."

His heart started pounding in his chest and he was breathing so heavily that he was pretty sure his brother could hear. His mind started running through every possible scenario. What could possibly have happened to Drake? It was only months ago that Meelah had died. He was using drugs, so maybe he overdosed, too. He suddenly felt sick and regretted not being there for his friend. His addiction had spiraled and Julio just completely bailed. He was mad. He had every right to be mad. Right? He couldn't bear to watch his long-time best friend throw his life away for a quick high, especially when he felt like he had spent the last couple years enabling him. Maybe he wasn't angry with Drake at all. Maybe he was angry with himself.

It was only a matter of time really. He hadn't realized it before, but deep down, he always knew that the drugs would ruin Drake. It had always just been a matter of time before he took one too many or stumbled out in front of a vehicle or mixed it with the wrong substance. Those pills were always going to be the death of him. Julio knew it. Drake knew it. His family knew it. Everyone knew it. It just occurred to Julio that this conversation with his brother wasn't actually all that shocking. In fact, he's been in mourning for Drake for a long time already. This moment was inevitable. It was something he knew would happen sooner or later.

"He's dead," Julio said shakily.

"He's not. He's alive, but he's not well."

"Something happened?"

"Yeah, something happened."

"What's wrong with him?" Already, he was crying. The last time he had cried in front of his brother was back when they were kids. His fingers were trembling and even though Ricky had confirmed that Drake was still alive, he wasn't fully comprehending this.

"His father passed away last night."

Julio scrunched his brows. He was filled with relief because his friend was okay, but it was gone in an instant. "Oh my god. Shit. Is he okay?"

"No. He's in the hospital."

"Is he gonna die?"

"I don't think so."

"What happened?"

He couldn't think of a soft way to say this, so he just came out with it. "Yesterday, Drake's father tried to kill him."

"What?!" he said on an exhale. "That doesn't..." His breathing got harder. "—make sense. I don't..."

"Mr. Parker was a very violent alcoholic and he abused Drake for years."

"Jesus... I can't... He never told me. I mean, he did, but he said it wasn't happening anymore. He said his dad quit drinking."

"What did he tell you his father did to him?" Maybe his brother already knew most everything. Maybe he wouldn't have to be the one to break it to him.

"He said he hit him sometimes and would occasionally lock him in the basement."

"Is that all he said?"

Julio looked at him with hurt and confusion in his eyes. Already, this was a lot for him to take in. "Is that not all he did?"

"Julio..." He'd spent all morning practicing how he would say this, but nothing felt right anymore. "When Drake's father hit him, it wasn't just a slap or a punch or two. When he locked him in the basement, it wasn't just a short time-out. He...viciously...beat him...sometimes until he lost consciousness. Remember when Drake was in the hospital? With the broken bones? He said he was jumped."

"Yeah..." Julio knew what he was going to say before he said it and he felt sick.

"That wasn't true. Mr. Parker tortured him."

Julio remembered the injuries. He'd had a dislocated shoulder, a fractured rib, a broken wrist, a broken nose and a broken finger and he had never seen so many bruises in his life.

"When Drake was locked in the basement," Ricardo continued, "his father would leave him down there for a couple weeks sometimes without checking on him. He wouldn't give him food and the only water he had was from a leaky pipe."

"Jesus..." More tears came and his nose was getting stuffy. "I don't understand."

Ricardo knew the feeling. Drake had lied to him about the severity of it all as well. He was just as at a loss as his brother.

"Do you need a minute?" the oldest asked.

"What, there's more?"

He didn't respond, but this was enough of an answer. Julio sniffled and wiped his eyes, then nodded slightly to let him know to go on.

"Mr. Parker didn't just abuse him physically. He also sexually abused him."

His brother's face contorted, twisting into a tight frown. He was trying to keep himself from completely breaking, but he couldn't hold it in. A couple unstoppable sobs left him and he hung his head. He felt horrible. He treated Drake like complete shit for taking those pills, but those pills were the only things he had in his life that didn't let him down.

"I can skip this part—"

"No, I wanna hear it." He needed to know. He needed to know what horrors his negligence had caused his best friend.

"Drake was raped."

Julio lost it all over again. He put his hand on his forehead to hide his eyes. Ricardo knew just how badly he'd treated Drake. He heard him vent about him time and time again and now he was delivering this news knowing how guilty and ashamed Julio was feeling.

The man continued. "He said it started when he was sixteen."

Sixteen. That's when his addiction started. That's when Stevie started hating him and when Julio started treating him like shit.

"He said it was only occasionally, but then it got pretty bad over the summer after graduation."

This was the summer Julio and Stevie finally got fed up enough to kick him out of the band. All Drake needed was a friend to ask him how he was and listen to him and all he got was abandonment. He was abandoned by his mother, by is step-father, by his brother and sister, by the love of his life, by his best friends. He had no one. He was left alone. He was a disappointment to his parents. He was the target of hatred by his step-brother and his band mates. None of it was his fault, but he never told anyone and why should he? No one wanted to listen to him.

"It got to the point," Ricardo said, "where it was happening almost daily. He said it became more and more aggressive. Sometimes it could last hours. He was forced to do things, like perform oral or touch himself and, if he refused, Mr. Parker would beat him or burn him or threaten him with weapons." He went into detail because he needed to answer all of Julio's questions so that the boy would never feel the need to bring it up to Drake. Plus, he needed his brother to know so that they could figure out the best way to help their friend move forwards.

Julio couldn't hold it in anymore. "Oh god!" he choked. His back jerked with each sob.

Ricardo was heartbroken. Tears left his eyes, but he cried silently. He knew how guilty his little brother was feeling because he felt it, too. He gently placed his hand on Julio's shoulder and gave him time before piling on more awful secrets.

After about two minutes, Julio asked, "Why would he do that?" He was bawling so hard that he was nearly incomprehensible, but Ricky understood.

"A few days ago, Drake was with his mother and he caused her to wreck. The car flipped and Mrs. Nichols ended up in a coma. She woke up after a few days, but she's been unable to walk since. Mr. Parker was told what had happened and he spent days waiting for Drake to get out of the hospital. When he was released yesterday, he called me crying. I couldn't understand much. He said he wanted to get clean and he wanted me to pick him up at his father's, so I immediately left Luis' house because I didn't want him to change his mind. In the time it took to make that hour and a half drive, Mr. Parker was dead. Drake said he started beating him the second he walked through the door, then he got a knife and severed three of his fingers."

"What?" Despite being given the story piece by piece and the explanation behind it, he was still so confused.

"Mr. Parker took Drake to his bedroom, where he broke his leg, his wrist, his arm, his nose and his jaw and he raped him. He spent the next hour or so torturing him. He stabbed Drake three times and he cut him up pretty badly on his back. He branded him with a hot needle on his abdomen." He listed the injuries so that Julio wouldn't look shocked the next time he saw Drake. He was giving his brother time to process because he didn't want Drake to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable when Julio visited.

" _Brand_ ed him?"

"It says _worthless cock-sucking slut_."

Julio lifted his other hand now so that he could hide his face even more.

"Drake said he managed to get the gun out of Mr. Parker's nightstand, but the safety was on, so his dad got to him and started strangling him. He was able to reach a knife and he stuck it in his father's arm, but he accidentally hit a main artery and Mr. Parker bled out."

"Good!" He was almost screaming now. "That fucker deserved to die!"

"I know," Ricardo agreed, "but Drake's really upset about it."

"Why?!"

"He was his father, Julio."

"He wasn't a father! He was a monster and a coward! Treating his fucking kid like that! It's sick!" he spat.

"I agree with you, but Drake still loved him," Ricardo said. "I'm gonna stay at the hospital for a while. His family didn't really want to see him. Do you think you'll be okay? I've called Mamá and she's gonna come stay for a few days."

Normally, Julio would fuss about having a "babysitter," but this time was different. He wanted his mom. He needed her comfort. He needed to be taken care of because he was too devastated to do it himself. However, he also needed to see Drake and apologize and beg for forgiveness.

"Can I come with you?"

Ricardo was hesitant. "I don't think he's up for visitors right now. He's still trying to cope with everything that's happened and I know you wanna help, but I think he just needs time." He was surprised but grateful that his brother didn't protest. "Look, I know how you feel. I know you blame yourself. I understand what you're going through. I could've prevented this, too. I knew his dad was hitting him."

"You did?"

"Yeah. I showed up during the middle of it once when I was picking him up for band practice. He asked me not to say anything, so I didn't. I was the one he called to come get him when his father put him in the hospital the first time. I wanted to tell the police, but he made me swear I wouldn't and he said he'd just deny it if I did. I know you feel like you could've done a lot of things differently. You're not alone."

"He hid it so well." Julio was still trying to understand. "Why didn't he say anything?"

"Drake was scared of him, but ultimately, I think the reason was because he didn't want to get his father in trouble. I also think he felt embarrassed and ashamed, especially about the sexual abuse."

"That's absurd. He shouldn't feel that way."

"I know, but he's got a lot to wrap his head around. He's not just dealing with what happened. He's not used to people knowing and now his family knows and you and I know. He's worried about how we'll see him now," Ricardo said. "On top of that, the news stations somehow got wind of this. Reporters are swarming the hospital."

"Jesus..."

"They're not gonna share his name, but they're gonna show his house and Mr. Parker's picture is gonna be splattered all over the tv and newspapers. People are going to figure out it's him."

"Can't we do something about it?"

"I've already tried, but they're technically not breaking any laws."

"Why do they even care? There are shootings and robberies and kids killing each other. Why are they focusing on Drake?"

"Apparently, it's the worst local case of child abuse in years," the man said. "Julio, this story is gonna be big. Like, front-page, lead-story, nationwide big. They're gonna publicly exploit him for their own gain. This is gonna be a media shit-storm and they'll leave him to clean up the debris without a care in the world how this affects him."

"I don't understand why this is happening." Julio was still crying. "He's never done shit to anybody. He didn't deserve any of this!"

"I know." Ricardo pulled his little brother into a hug and he cried with him. "We've just gotta make sure we're there for him when he needs us and we have to be here for each other. We've gotta start looking out for each other."

Julio nodded.

"He doesn't have anywhere to go, so unless something changes with his family, he's gonna move in here when he gets out of the hospital. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, of course."

"He's also probably not quite finished with drugs after all this. He's gonna wanna use now more than ever. We need to be patient with him. We can't scare him off because we might lose him forever. He needs to get clean, but you know just as well as I do how frustrating it is to be constantly lied to and to have things stolen from you. We're gonna have to work with him, though. It's not gonna fix itself overnight."

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get my best friend back," Julio said.

 ***END FLASHBACK***

Julio walked up the driveway and ascended the porch steps with his friend. He watched him out of the corner of his eye as they waited for someone to answer their knock and he could tell that Drake felt just as uncomfortable about being here as he did. The former resident of the house wrapped his arms around himself as if a hug would give him comfort. This way, at least something was in between himself and the house from his nightmares.

In an instant, though, all of that anxiety seemed to melt away when he heard a high-pitched voice on the other side of the door. Teeny-tiny little footsteps patted against the floor eagerly.

"Daddy's hewe!" came his daughter's muffled voice on the other side of the door. "Kenny! Daddy's hewe!"

Julio could see a smile take up most of the space on his friend's face. Seeing this made him smile, too. Despite how annoying it was to listen to someone gush about his kid when Julio had zero interest in that, he was genuinely so fucking happy for Drake.

"Bring me your shoes," came an approaching voice.

"I got them on."

Moments later, the door opened. Drake offered Kenzly some sort of quick greeting, but the second he saw Charlie, his focus was on her. He squatted down to her level and the first thing he noticed was that her shoes were on the wrong feet. She was so excited to see him that she had put her shoes on by herself and was waiting for his arrival. This sentiment alone made him feel like Dahlia and his father were wrong about him. There were people who loved him — people he had wronged. Charlie was the one he had failed most, but he showed up out of the blue and tried to fix that and she held no bitterness in her heart.

"Daddy!" She grinned big, showing all her baby teeth. She was bouncing excitedly on her feet and she accepted the hug that he gave her, but only briefly. Charlie pulled away and grabbed his hand, then started to lead him towards the car. "Le's go."

"Wait a minute, baby. Lemme get your car seat." He scooped the girl up in his arms and raised her high in the air. The sound of her giggles filled him with something that he thought might be happiness.

Kenzly reached behind the door and retrieved the seat, then she set it down in front of them. "Lemme get Megan and we'll be right out."

"Okay." He held Charlie against his hip with one hand, then he gripped the car seat with the other, but let go when Julio spoke up.

"I'll get it."

The two made their way to the car. The younger boy put the car-seat inside and buckled it in, then Drake set his daughter down in it and got her secured. He tickled her as he did so and laughed when she did.

"Get in," Charlie said, pointing to the empty seat next to her.

"I have to drive," he said.

"You dwive?!" Her surprise made him smile.

"Yes, I do."

"Daddy, how old awe you?"

After he got her secured in her seat, he sat down on the edge of the floor while he waited for the girls. "Guess."

"Um...nine?"

"Close," he said. "I'm twenty-two."

Again her jaw dropped. "You oldew than Nana!"

"I am not!" he replied with amusement. "I'm, like, half her age, bruh. Chill."

"Daddy?"

Drake never thought he'd ever find himself responding to this name. Honestly, he kind of liked it. "Yeah?"

"Whewe awe we goin'?"

"It's a surprise for my friend. Do you remember my friend?" He motioned towards the boy who was hanging around outside of the car and looking at his phone.

Julio lifted his head when he heard that he was being talked about. "Hi, Charlie," he said.

Her face showed discomfort and fear.

"His name is Julio," Drake introduced. "He's my best friend. He's really nice and he can play music like me." He saw that this still didn't make Charlie ease up to him. "It might take time," he told Julio.

At that moment, the two girls exited the house and approached the car. Kenzly was carrying a _Yo Gabba Gabba!_ backpack, which contained diapers, diaper rash cream, an outfit, wipes, a sippy cup, a banana, string cheese, a blanket, Kenzly's wallet and the house key.

"Hey, Megan," Drake greeted as he got on his feet. It felt somewhat strange to try to casually speak to her because he never really did that before. With his other relationships, like with Josh or his mom or Kenzly, he was working on fixing them. With Megan, he pretty much had to build their relationship from scratch.

"Hey," she replied.

"How are you?"

"Good," she said. She was trying just as much as he was, but it was just so weird for her as well.

Things were still clearly awkward for the both of them. They didn't quite know how to talk to one another, but Drake was determined to change that. He couldn't help but feel that, every time she looked at him, she saw a victim. She saw him suffer through vicious beatings at the hands of their father. She learned he had been raped countless times — in _her_ bed even. She heard Marcellas tease him about getting involved in prostitution. She witnessed paramedics rushing him outside during his first ever suicide attempt. She watched him nod in and out of awareness at the dinner table when he got high on Christmas Eve. She knew he unsuccessfully begged for his life when his dad tried to kill him. She knew so much about him — his flaws, his shame, his secrets, his weaknesses — yet he knew almost nothing about her.

"Shotgun!" Julio called, then he got in the front seat.

Drake noticed Kenzly double-check to make sure Charlie was buckled in right before he got in the driver's seat. This didn't offend him because he was used to having people scrutinize everything he did. He was still having to save his receipts for Ricardo.

Once they were all inside, Drake backed out of the driveway and they were off. Julio reached for the radio and turned down the music that had started once the car was cranked, then he turned towards the backseat.

"Do either of you have any idea where we're going?" he asked.

Both of the girls just smiled, but neither said anything.

Drake spoke up. "You're just gonna have to wait."

"You know how you hate surprises? Well, I also hate surprises."

"I don't give a fuck."

"Oooh! Daddy, you said a bad word."

"Oh." He was caught off-guard. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I get a dollar."

"What?"

Kenzly explained. "Your mom made a swear jar. If you swear in front of Charlie, you have to put a dollar in the jar and she gets to spend it on whatever she wants."

"Oh. Geez. Okay."

Julio joked, "You're gonna be so broke in, like, three hours."

"Shut up."

Charlie gasped. "You said a bad word!"

"I did not."

"Your mom counts that as a bad word," his ex informed.

"It's not a bad word, though," Drake disagreed.

"Would you want Charlie saying it?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then it's a bad word."

"Okay, well, I'm gonna need a list of these so-called bad words."

Julio snickered. "Dude, your daughter got you in trouble."

Drake spoke so that Charlie couldn't hear. "I know. Shit."

* * *

"Oh my god." Julio rolled his eyes as they turned into the parking lot of Urban Air Trampoline and Adventure Park. " _This_ is my big surprise?"

"It's gonna be so much fun," his best friend said excitedly.

"Awe we hewe?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah, baby." Drake turned in his seat and smiled at her.

When he did this, Megan could clearly see his face. His eyes sparkled and he looked genuinely happy. It was an expression she hadn't seen on him in a long time, and not just because she hadn't seen him in three years. Even when they were living together, she rarely saw him smile like this. She was so happy that he was sticking around for Charlie and that he was stepping up finally, but she couldn't help but feel a bit jealous that _she_ hadn't been important enough to make him stay.

"Daddy, whewe awe we?"

"You'll see."

His daughter kicked her feet excitedly. Everyone got out of the car. Kenzly unbuckled Charlie and held her close as she slid out through Megan's side. She grabbed the _Yo Gabba Gabba!_ backpack and passed it to Drake before getting out. He put it on, then looked up at the building in front of them. It was clean and spot-free because it had just opened two weeks ago. He'd been meaning to come sooner, but he never had the time or the money or the energy. Julio's struggles finally pushed him to come. He knew his friend would love it, too, despite his current complaints.

"Do I look like I'm five years old?" Julio asked, still unimpressed.

"I don't know, but you're sure as fuck acting like it."

Then came Charlie's voice. "Oooh!"

"I know. Sorry." He took her and held her against his hip. "You don't miss anything, do you?" He kissed her forehead and continued to talk to her while another conversation happened next to him.

"It's really fun," Megan told Julio.

"You've been?"

"Yeah, I came with some friends when it opened. It was so packed."

"Doesn't look too busy now," Kenzly said as she noticed the few cars in the parking lot. "Probably because we're so early." She checked her phone and saw that it was only a little after nine in the morning.

Shrill laughter interrupted the chat and everyone looked at Charlie, who had just been tickled by her father. When he pulled his hand away, she leaned forwards and hid her face in his neck as if that would keep him from reaching her a second time.

"I'm not even wearing the proper attire," Julio complained.

Drake heard this. "Oh, yeah. I brought us different pants."

He passed Charlie back to Kenzly, opened the door, then pressed a button so that the trunk popped open. He looked inside and retrieved two pairs of joggers. They bought these soon after they'd made their running goal. It felt like so long ago since they had done that together. He kind of wanted to start that up again. Drake tossed Julio the blue ones and he kept his black ones. He went around to the other side of the car and got in the backseat. His friend opened the door on his side and followed.

"No peeking," Julio said to the girls before shutting the door.

Drake already had his belt unbuckled and was unfastening his skinny jeans. He surprised the younger boy when he asked, "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No. Why would I be mad?"

"I don't know. I was just making sure I was reading the situation right."

Again, he asked, "Why would you think I was mad?"

"Because you seem kinda irritated and unhappy that I brought you here," Drake said as he got his jeans down his legs. He took off his sneakers so that he could finish pulling his pants off. "I wasn't sure if you were mad because I brought Charlie, Megan and Kenzly along or because you'd really just rather go home or if you were just moody and negative like I get when you and Ricky force me to do shit during a craving." Drake always acted this way, like when they made him play board games although he'd rather lay in bed or when they made him climb that fucking mountain during his withdrawals. He thought this was what was happening with his friend, but then he started to doubt himself and his mind started convincing him of a bunch of reasons that Julio probably hated him. He knew he had to confront the issue before he let himself spiral, especially since his daughter was around.

"I'm sorry," the young man apologized. "I know I'm being a shit. I swear I'm not mad at all, though. You're doing the right thing. If I were to be at home laying around, I'd probably go out and buy whiskey or something. I'm not trying to be so pessimistic. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm acting like... I'm acting like you."

This made both boys laugh. Drake lifted his bottom out of the seat so that he could pull up his pants, then he reached for his shoes.

"See?" he said. "It's not so easy, is it? Imagine if I was trying to get you to play Monopoly instead of this."

Julio laughed. "I don't know how you didn't kill us."

"And I fucking hate Monopoly."

"That's because _you_ ruin everything. You start making everyone sign contracts and, when I needed that one orange to finally make a set and catch up to you guys, you only gave it to me if I promised to give you a percentage every time my brother landed on it," he said, "and when Ricardo was desperate for a card so he could finish one of his sets, you made him swear not to charge you at all if you landed on it. You ruin everything and — I never wanted to say this, but this is probably why you're single."

Drake could tell that he was joking and he laughed. He bent his knee and rested his heel in the seat so that he could tie his shoe. "My daughter's gonna hate me when she's old enough to understand how to play Monopoly."

Both of them felt it at the same time. It was strange to hear the words "my daughter" leave Drake's lips and they both went quiet for a moment. Everything had just changed so suddenly. Out of nowhere, there was a kid in the picture and it didn't seem like she was going anywhere any time soon. It was weird for both of them.

"Hey," Drake said, his voice more serious now, "I know I've been really wrapped up in my own shit lately — with getting to know Charlie and all — but I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

"Well, you're a dad now and you wanna step up and being a parent takes up a lot of time. It's your kid and she should come first. You're not gonna have a lot of time for much else and that's okay. I couldn't be prouder."

"I should make time," the boy disagreed. "We just fixed things and I don't wanna lose this again. I get so caught up in my shit sometimes and totally forget about everyone else and I'm trying to work on that, but if you ever feel like I'm neglecting our friendship, I want you to tell me. I don't want it to be like last time where you felt like you couldn't tell me and you bottled everything up and then shit hit the fan. This whole 'having a kid' thing is new to me and I'm trying to figure things out. I literally have no fucking idea what I'm doing, and not just with Charlie. I'm trying to learn how to balance everything, so I just want you to tell me what you need from me. Like, was this one of those moments where it should've just been the two of us? Should I not have brought Charlie?"

"No, it's fine that you brought her. It's not like you and me were gonna have any deep conversations in a fucking trampoline park. We're here for a distraction and the more people that are here, the more distracted from my cravings I'll be." Julio said, "This is new to me, too, so I don't really know what to expect yet. Obviously, things are gonna change, especially whenever you and your mom decide that it's time for you to have full custody. I don't really know what that means for us, but we'll just have to deal with it as it comes and adapt until we figure out what we're doing. I promise I won't bottle my shit this time, but you can't let me interfere with your relationship with your daughter either. I'll let you know if I feel like we're starting to grow distant, but you have to tell me if you genuinely don't have time. Don't try to squeeze me in and then mess things up with Charlie because she's who's important now. You can't half-ass that shit."

"I'm kinda scared," Drake admitted softly. "I don't really know what the fuck I'm doing."

"I don't think any first-time parent does, but you'll figure it out," his best friend assured. "I know you're gonna be a great father."

This made the young man feel a bit more self-confident and he wore a small smile. "Thanks," he said. "Alright, enough of this serious shit. You ready to go inside?"

"Yeah."

The two got out of the car and the group entered the trampoline park. Drake approached the counter to pay, then they stepped to the side and he passed out wristbands. He helped Kenzly with hers since she was carrying Charlie, then he put Charlie's on.

"I'm gonna run back out to the car and put my wallet in there," he said. "You guys can go ahead and I'll find you."

He went back outside and put his money in the compartment between the two front seats, then he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and his lighter and lit up. He smoked quickly because he didn't want to be away for too long. This was Charlie's first time here, too, and he could tell that she was mesmerized by all the colors and sounds and lights and big equipment. She was going to have a blast.

 _Ding!_

The young man pulled out his cell phone to see who'd messaged him. He couldn't help but roll his eyes when he saw Dahlia's name on his screen, but he also couldn't keep himself from reading what she wrote.

 **Dahlia Martin: u think u can just pretend I don't exist?! ignore me. go ahead. I dare u. see what fuckin happen u lousy wanker!**

There it was again. It was the same feeling he had last week when he went out for lunch with his cast mates and two days ago when he was leaving his mom's after having spent the early part of his day hanging out with Charlie and Kenzly in the backyard. He felt like he was being watched. He lifted his head and looked around, but he saw nothing and no one out of the ordinary. Still, he couldn't shake that feeling. His paranoia growing, Drake left the text without a reply and headed inside with the others.

* * *

Charlie's hair stuck to her sweat-coated forehead. Drake brushed it away as he dipped his spoon into his ice cream cup, then held it in front of her mouth. She took a bite, then leaned forwards, resting her forehead against his torso as she wrapped her arms around him. The young man scooped up more of his ice cream, then took a bite himself. It hadn't been long since they'd left the trampoline park and now they were cooling off at a nearby ice cream shop called Sweet Charlie's. He'd never been before, but Charlie wanted to go because she shared a name with the business. They served rolled ice cream that was made right in front of the customer, which she went absolutely nuts about. Drake ordered the so-Cal cup and added blueberries, bananas, shredded coconut, almond slices and a small squirt of whipped cream. Each cup costed seven dollars, so after they all got one, it ended up totaling to about thirty dollars just for ice cream. He didn't mind. He wanted to treat his daughter and he wanted Julio to enjoy himself and he owed the two girls a lot for how he'd treated them in the past. It felt good to do something nice for them. Kenzly offered to take care of the tab since Drake had spent so much for them to have fun at Urban Air. This is how things used to always be with them. Back when they were best friends, they shared their money. If Kenzly's mom needed groceries, Drake would chip in with whatever he had; if he was tapped out and needed drugs or a meal while staying at his neglectful father's, Kenzly took him out to eat and gave him whatever she had left in her pocket.

"—and then my brother opens the door first instead of Drake and an entire bucket of spaghetti spilled out all over him!" Julio was saying. He spoke enthusiastically and his friend could tell that he felt much better after their day of fun.

"I bet he was fuming," Kenzly said.

"Oh, he was. He kept whining about it until I decked Drake in the nuts, then Drake started crying and he wasn't that mad anymore."

The ladies laughed.

"I wasn't crying."

"You were crying," Julio countered.

The boy looked like he was about to argue, but decided to concede. "I teared up _a little_."

There was more laughter. Drake rolled his eyes, then looked down at the child in his lap after getting more ice cream on the spoon. However, she was asleep now.

"Damn. She passed out," he said, then he ate the toddler-sized bite.

"Good. You wore her out," said Kenzly. "She's been putting up a fight every time I lay her down for a nap now."

"Does that mean it's almost time for her to stop taking naps?" He wasn't sure what age kids stopped and started doing what and he wanted to learn.

"No. If she doesn't nap, she'll be grumpy as hell," the girl said.

Megan added, "Almost as bad as Julio was earlier today."

Julio scoffed. "Fuck you, you little brat."

Drake laughed, then hissed when his friend punched his arm. "Ah! Dude!"

"I don't know why you're laughing. You have more mood swings than all three of _us_ combined." He motioned towards himself, then Kenzly and Megan.

"Can confirm," his little sister said.

"Same," the blonde added as she pulled out her phone to check a text she received. As she did this, she glanced at the time. "Anyway, what time do you need to be at the theatre today?"

"Six, I think. I have to shower first, though. I'm so sweaty and gross." He was exhausted from jumping and climbing around and he was hoping maybe he would have time to squeeze in a little nap before the play. "What time is it?"

"Twelve."

"I have that birthday party at two," Megan said. "Remember?"

"Yeah," said her brother. "I should probably go ahead and drop you guys off." He tried to quickly eat the rest of his ice cream without getting a brain freeze.

"Anyone want the rest of this?" Kenzly held out her cup. "I'm so full."

No one else was hungry either, though. They cleaned up the table and gathered their things. Drake stood and carefully lifted Charlie higher so that her head was on his shoulder. When they got outside, he gently placed her in her car seat, but her eyes fluttered open and she looked around. After a couple seconds, she was asleep again.

* * *

"Drake!" came that always cheery voice he hadn't heard in a while.

"Hey." He gave the gas station attendant a smile as he approached the counter. "Sorry, I know it's been, like, forever since I've been here."

"That's okay," Ahmed said. "It's good to see you now. How are you?"

"I'm good," said Drake. "Things are really good."

"That's wonderful. How did it go with that girl?"

"Girl?"

"The one you got flowers for."

The last time he was here was after he had cheated on Clementine with Charlie and Tad. He'd wanted to make up with his fiancée and Ahmed had suggested flowers.

"Oh. Her. Yeah, we're not together anymore."

"No? Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She wasn't really all that nice to me anyway."

"Well, in that case, perhaps it's for the best. You deserve nothing but kindness and respect and you should never settle for someone who can not give that to you, Drake."

"Thank you." He actually missed Ahmed and his encouragement so much. He had a way of making Drake feel good about himself. "I'm sorry I haven't stopped in. I went through quite a rough patch after that and it took me a long time to bounce back."

"You look well."

"Thanks. I'm doing a lot better now."

He liked Ahmed a lot and he wanted to make time to visit him every now and then. On top of that, he also felt like he had to because of how the man had helped him. Ahmed had offered him hot dogs and hope every time the boy had stopped in while he lived with his abusive father. Drake had repaid him by pointing a gun to his face and demanding all his hard-earned cash. Still, the owner saw good in him and saved him from making a horrible mistake that night. Drake owed him the visits. Ahmed had invested in his life and he deserved to know what Drake had done with that investment. He was happy that he was doing so well now.

"I'm glad," the Muslim worker said.

"Um, I can't really stay long because my friend is waiting in the car, but I can stop by sometime in the next couple days. I've been in the area a lot anyway."

"Okay."

"Also, um, this is kinda last minute, so you're probably busy, but I'm performing in this musical and tomorrow's the last show and I have one more free ticket left, so...um, if you wanted to come... I mean, if you can't, that's okay. I know you're busy working a lot—"

"No, I'd love to come," he said.

"Really?" This made Drake smile. He'd always planned on inviting Ahmed with that last ticket, but he never had the time or the nerve until now. He knew the man liked him, but there was a difference in liking someone enough to converse with them and keep them out of trouble and liking someone enough to go places for them and support them that way.

"Of course." He was grinning, too. He could tell that he had really made a difference in Drake's life and he knew that Drake was grateful for that.

"The show starts at seven tomorrow. Just give the ticket-taker your name and he'll have it on a list and let you in."

"Okay."

"Okay." He was still stunned that his invite had been accepted. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow night." He turned and made his way to the door, but before he opened it, he came back. "Oh, I forgot. I've gotta get gas."

"How much are you getting?"

"Twenty dollars on pump two, please." Drake gave him the cash, then said his goodbyes again and went back out to the car. After he pumped the gas, he got in and put the key in the ignition.

"What'd he say?" Julio asked.

"He said he'd come."

"Good. By the way, my mom and dad and Gabriella are coming tonight. They're sitting separately obviously and they probably won't understand what's going on, but they wanted to come support you."

"Aw, that's super sweet. Theo said he and his mom were gonna come tonight. I think Samantha and Brett are coming tomorrow, too."

The young man started the car, then pulled out of the station and headed down the street. He quietly sang along to the song that was playing, but was interrupted after a couple minutes.

"Hey, thanks for taking me out today. I had fun," Julio said, "and it did help."

"Good."

"I almost pissed myself laughing so hard when you tried to show off and ended up face-planting in the foam pit."

Drake laughed with him. "Charlie thought it was a dope trick."

"Honestly, I think Megan and Kenzly thought it was part of your trick, too."

"I'm glad you came in after me. I was two seconds away from a full-on meltdown. That foam pit is scary as fuck. I couldn't even move and I felt like I was drowning."

He could remember being stuck and unsure which way was up and which was down. His brain had been getting close to throwing him into a vivid, nightmarish flashback, but then he heard Julio's voice, which was calming despite the hysterical laughter. _I got you, bruh. Hang on._ Julio knew him well enough to come save him and he appreciated that.

"Charlie looked like she had a lot of fun, too," the younger boy said.

"I know. Oh my god. I love her."

"I got a few good pictures of you two on my phone. I'll send them to you."

"Thanks." Drake yawned. "Fuck, I'm exhausted."

"Shit, bruh. You gonna be good for the show tonight? Maybe you should take a nap before you go."

"Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do. Make sure I hear my alarm."

"I'm so ready for you to be done with that whole fucking play. I'm tired of cooking dinner every night."

Drake rolled his eyes and the conversation ended there. He went back to singing softly as Julio played on his phone.

* * *

It was the morning before the last showing of _Rent_ , so he spent it just like he'd spent just about every other day this week: with Charlie. He waited in the backyard for her like he always did. One day, he would have the strength to actually go inside. He wanted to so badly. He wanted to be able to eat a meal at the table with her and put her down for a nap and watch television with her and just watch her do whatever it was that she did throughout the day. This wasn't Martin Parker's house anymore. There wasn't a raging alcoholic inside waiting behind every corner to catch him fucking up. There wasn't a power-hungry monster ready to show off his strength and control by pinning him down and violating him. Instead, there was an incredible woman who loved him unconditionally despite every shitty thing he had ever put her through. There was a young girl who wanted nothing more than to build a relationship with her big bro. There was a beautiful lady who always had his back no matter what. There was a tiny child who looked up to him and felt nothing but love for him. They were his family.

A toothy grin took over the majority of his face when he heard the back door open. Seconds later, he saw Charlie racing towards him and, for a second, he felt all of his worries slip away. She had her arms up in the air like she was ready for him to lift her. When she reached him, he scooped her up in his arms and squeezed her tight.

"Daddy!"

"Hey, baby." He kissed her hair. "I missed you so much."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Wow, it's been about three months since my last update. I suck. Hope everyone's staying safe during this wack plague. Gonna keep it short since the chapter was so incredibly long. Please review. I haven't gotten any reviews for the last two chapters, which is partly why I've been so bleh about editing this chapter. I spent a lot of time on it, though, as you can tell by its length. Anyway, you better be washing your hands, bruh. CCC ya!**


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